Those Golden Eyes
by Vermouth19
Summary: Dalton and McKinley are at war. King Anderson send his son, Prince Blaine, to sneak into McKinley and strike them from inside. The goal is to gain trust from the royal family and then killed them. Blaine thinks he can do it until he met their Prince Kurt, the Prince of Ice. Klaine - summary and warning inside, give it a try ;)
1. Prologue

**Those Golden Eyes**

**By : Vermouth19**

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In the world as opposed to ours, there is no such thing as normal. Each individual is blessed by certain power, depends from which kingdom they are born. Those kingdoms are McKinley, Dalton, Carmel, and Addams. They are known as the rulers of the Second World.

McKinley people are known as the master of five elements. They had golden eyes that matched with the color of their kingdom. They were blessed with the ability to master the five elements and all of each branch capabilities.

Dalton people wear red in pride, just like their eyes color. Their people can manipulate everything with their voice. From calling a stone to make someone falling in love with you; their voice is their main weapon toward the other country.

Carmel's people are as blue as the ocean, but that's not only thing special about their eyes. They are blessed with the power to see, from seeing through a wall until the future itself. In the end they only see one thing; winning the battle at all cost.

Addams is not to be taken lightly. This green-eyed kingdom had the ability to manipulate their physical body. They know no fear and become a strong kingdom because of it.

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Summary : Dalton and McKinley are at war. Seeing there is no other way to win it, King Anderson send his son, Prince Blaine, to sneak into McKinley as strike them from inside. His father commands him to become one of their General to gain trust from the royal family and then killed them. Blaine thinks he can do it until he met their prince.

Warning : angst, characters death (explicit and non), blood, slash (without heavy smut, just sweet vanilla cause I'm horrible at it), a mix between sad - happy ending so hopefully everybody will be happy with this.

Genre : angst, romance, tragedy, fantasy (based on my novel entitled Red Blood Ring)

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Well, should I continue this? Please let me know! Oh and be gentle please, English is not my main language. Cheers!


	2. Chapter 1 - Mission and Manipulation

A/N : Thank you for all of the positive feedbacks, faves, and followers; you make my day!

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee but the plot of this story is mine

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**Mission and Manipulation**

"Come on! It's that all you've got?" Blaine mocked Nick who is lying on the ground after his face makes contact with Blaine's knee. Nick spat blood and wiped his torn lips as his colleagues laughed hard from the sidelines of the empty field.

It was a good day for Dalton's people to do their activities as usual. Merchants in the town prepared to open their shop and the ladies walked passed them to see if they had had what they were looking for. Children screamed as they were chasing each other and sometimes they went into one of the shop, forcing the owner who luckily had the correct 'power' to shoo them off gently. The older children were parting from their parents to go to Dalton's Academy; learning how to control their power in hope that one day the kingdom would recruit them as their soldier.

In the mean time, on the castle above the hill that was not too far from the town below, Blaine trained with his generals like they always do every morning in the kingdom's square. 'Beating his generals' was the honest statement since he was defeating 2 out of 2 so far, and it was still early in the morning.

Blaine was clearly superior above them all. Being a prince made him had to undergo strict physical training since the day he was able to walk. It was not a happy memory, even if it made him become the best of the best. His father was very strict with him and that made Blaine grew distant from him. It became worse when Blaine declared that he was gay for the first time. No matter how hard he tried to be a perfect son for him, King Anderson never showed such a father-son relationship to him. Blaine even thought his father hated him.

Even though it broke his heart, he had stopped trying few years ago. He was tired of being rejected. Never again.

Blaine offered his hand to Nick and the general sighed heavily before accepting it and pulled himself up. The other generals clapped politely for Nick's lost and another victory for the prince.

"_Water_," Blaine murmured and opened his palm. In a second, a golden cup filled with water appeared in his palm from nowhere. He then handed it to Nick who finished it in less than five seconds.

His friends called him as the 'Creator' because of his power and he accepted it happily. Blaine only needed to call the name of the item and it would appear for him to be used. When he was seven, he visited the town for sightseeing and became an anonymous impromptu magician, performing his tricks and making quite a fortune from it. When the King found out, it had become his last visit.

Dalton's generals' power was considered much more frightening than his. Nick was some kind of living lie detector and Blaine was saved many times from his dad because of him, since everybody believed that he always tell the truth. Nick was also the head of interrogator team because of the same reason. Trent may look chubby for a standard soldier but he still maintained the prestigious position because of his unique power. He was given the name of 'Mr. Nightmare' as a nickname because he could produce someone's personal nightmare on his command and amplified it thousand times. Blaine, fortunately, never crossed his line as his best friend and with that never experiencing it until today but he heard that Trent's victims often went crazy after tasting the power.

Jeff was the most famous general among the ladies in the castle. His power was strong charm in his voice. He could make every single person (by that, he meant everyone) in the castle to fall in love with him. After the charm had worked, he could even make a person walk off a cliff with a simple command. It worked only for humans, though. Blaine still tearing up from laughing so hard every time he remembered Jeff experimented on one of the kingdom's horse when they were young and in the end resulting him a broken arm.

A rather unpleasant name was given for Sebastian; Silver tongue. He could manipulate someone's memory, but then he often used it for his own benefits so most people in the castle despised him. Sebastian annoyed him many times by trying to seduce him but other than that Blaine considered him cool (he was the only open gay in the castle beside himself, after all).

The last one was Wes, the Great General of Dalton. He was the head of their kingdom's main army and was respected by his men. His power was to manipulate other's movement; that was why they called him the Puppeteer.

Blaine, Wes, Trent, Nick, and Jeff were best friend since they were little. All of them grew inside the castle since their parents worked as soldiers. After Wes graduated from the academy, the previous generals promote him as soldier and soon the others were chosen too. Sebastian joined the elite circle five years ago, when he was promoted by a general to replace him.

This was why Blaine felt anxious since three days ago. He heard from Trent that his father sent Wes on a mission with a small group of his men but he did not know where they go. Knowing his father, this could end up bad for Wes.

"Any news from Wes?" Blaine asked all of them while he produced another drink for himself.

"I haven't heard anything from him," Trent quickly answered. From his tone, Blaine could tell that he was worried too.

"The king won't send him if it wasn't a top secret mission, so maybe we won't hear from him at all," Jeff added, which was sounded reasonable for them. If it was only a regular mission, they would have sent lower rank soldiers instead of their own general.

"I hope he's okay," Blaine said as he eyeing the window of the Great Hall above them. He would not forgive his father if something happened to his friend.

"You almost make me jealous with that tone," said Sebastian with his big grin.

"Not now, Seb," Nick cut him off, seeing Blaine was not pleased to hear that too. Sebastian threw his arms into the air and everyone stayed silent for a moment.

"There's no use worrying about Wes, I'm sure he can take care of himself," Jeff shrugged, stood up and stretched a bit. "Now, who wants to spar with me?"

"Be careful on what you wish for."

Sebastian was about to join Jeff when they saw a scarred looking soldier came from the main entrance toward their direction. The soldier stopped few meters in front of them and quickly bowed. "The King demands for his Prince's presence at the Great Hall, my Lord," he said, a bit stammering on his words.

Blaine's eyebrow raised an inch. "Did The King tell you what is it about?"

"No, Sir."

Before Blaine could dismissed the poor guy, this time Stanford - Trent's right hand, ran from the same direction toward them. Trent shot up immediately; the look on his man confirmed that he brought bad news.

Stanford bowed shortly and walked straight to his general. He whispered to his ears and Trent's eyes grew wider as he spoke.

"He _what_?!" Trent yelled angrily even before the man finished speaking.

"What is it?" His colleague asked, but Trent was already in his feet.

"Wes is back and he was badly injured. He's in the medic room now," he said quickly in panic. A cold water was like being poured on all of them. Blaine was the first one to follow him but Trent stopped him.

"You'd best meet the King now. I'll go check on him." He then ran as fast as he could to the castle with Stanford on his side and they disappeared behind the wall. The others soon recovered from the news and hurried themselves to catch up with Trent, leaving speechless Blaine on his own.

Blaine fisted his hand until his knuckles turned white. He left the forgotten soldier and dashed to the Great Hall.

His father better had a good explanation on what happened to Wes.

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He arrived in front of the Great Hall in less than five minutes. The guards bowed politely to him but he ignored them and simply strode in, finding his father in the throne with two heavily injured soldiers that were supported by their colleagues.

When his father saw him, his gaze turned cold. He dismissed them along with the patrol men so they were alone in the enormous hall.

"Care to explain what happened to Wes?" Blaine went straight to the point; he did not even salute the king.

"Mind your tongue, Blaine," his father hissed, but there were a hint of joyful in it. The old man rose from his throne and walked toward one of the enormous windows. Blaine crossed his arms, waited impatiently for him to speak.

"King Hummel is dying."

The words confused Blaine until he could digest the meaning behind it. "Are you sending Wes into their kingdom just to spy on them?!"

"Sacrifice needs to be taken."

"It was a suicide mission!"

"Enough!" King Anderson's voice echoing dangerously across the room. Blaine held his tongue in disgust but still looked furious as hell.

"General Wes reported that the King was gravely ill. His chance of survival was little and rumours said that his successor has been chosen," his father continued. Blaine rolled his eyes; here we go again.

"Let me guess, you want to attack them?"

"Precisely."

"Well, then," Blaine bowed deeply as a mock toward the ambitious king, "I hope you'll succeed this time, since your last try was a total failure." Blaine started to walk away from the throne when his father's next word stopped him.

"That really depends on you."

Blaine stopped halfway from the door and slowly turned around. "What do you mean by that?"

His father walked toward him; a cold smile grew on his unreadable expression. "You will go to McKinley and killed their heir."

Blaine blinked twice and realised that he just took one step backward. "N-no, I won't . . ."

"You can easily sneak into their kingdom . . ."

"Father, please . . ."

"Gain their trust and strike them the hardest from inside . . ."

"_I won't do it!_"

Blaine's chest rose and fell after his outburst. The king stood silently but he still smiled at him, making him look like a crazy man.

"This is our chance to take down their empire, Blaine, don't you see it? Dalton will never be more prosperous than ever if we can claim their land as ours!" His tone sounded as if Blaine should be enthusiastic about this, which was made him sick.

"This is not a chess game, and we're talking about someone else's life." Blaine did not yelled at him this time; he was far too disappointed of his father to be mad at him.

"My vision is for Dalton to be the greatest kingdom of all four," the king stated it as a matter of fact.

The young prince shook his head and continued his way toward the door, ignoring the elder completely this time.

When he almost reached the door, it was opened from the outside and to his surprise, Sebastian appeared in front of them. Blaine confusedly looked between Sebastian who blocked the door and his father, and then a horrifying string was formed in his mind.

"Sebastian, don't," Blaine warned him as he stepped back from the general. Sebastian looked really sorry for him but he kept moving forward to his direction.

"I'm sorry, Blaine. It has to be done for the sake of Dalton," his father continued with a blank expression, but there was no regret in his words.

There were two exits from the Great Hall; one was beside the throne, and the other was blocked by Sebastian. Before he could decide his escape route, Sebastian took advantage of the situation and in the next second he took Blaine down with a great force and pinning him onto the ground with his body weight. Sebastian did not forget to clamp Blaine's jaws, preventing him from using his power.

Blaine fought him as best as his immobilize body could do, but it was clearly a useless effort. He pleaded silently to his friend with his eyes as his final effort to escape but Sebastian shook his head regretfully.

"I had to, Blaine. I'm sorry; The King originally wants Trent to persuade you but I volunteered instead," Sebastian spoke slowly for Blaine's ears only. Blaine's eyes grew wider in horror.

"You have my permission, Sebastian," the king said calmly from above them.

The moment Blaine saw Sebastian opened his mouth, his mind immediately went blank.

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Sebastian never felt this guilty after using his power. As soon as he finished manipulating Blaine's mind, the prince looked disoriented for a moment before he blinked twice and looked at him calmly; too calm for a guy who was pinned by a man.

He pulled him up and then stepped back from the royal family as the king came to his son.

"You will leave tomorrow at dawn," the king said, putting his hand on Blaine's shoulder. His son nodded slowly. He turned to Sebastian and dismissed them before he went outside the hall.

Sebastian gently grabbed Blaine's arm and led him toward the door. "Come, Blaine. You need to rest."

He followed his lead to his room obediently; but when Sebastian saw him the second time, tears were streaming down his still confused face.

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Review will be appreciated a lot! It also helps me updating much faster ;)


	3. Chapter 2 - Red and Gold

A/N : Sorry for the long awaited update! Here's Chapter Two :D

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee, but the plot of this story is mine

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**Red and Gold**

Blaine blinked twice and almost fell from his bed when he realised where he was.

He groaned in pain after his arm made contact with the hard floor. The harsh light from the window blinded him even after he pulled himself up so now he was sitting at the edge of his bed.

He massaged his sore arm as he looked around his surrounding confusedly. Was it noon already? What, in Dalton's name, made him fell asleep in the middle of the day? Blaine could not recall how or when he got to his room. His mind was kind of jumbling itself; he could recall talking to the generals and Sebastian, but somehow forgot what they were talking about.

Oh yeah, he also remembered being summoned by his father. He looked worried; what was the king . . .

_Wes!_

Blaine jumped off his bed when the memory hit him hard. Without a second thought, he put on his shoes in hurry and dashed toward the other side of the castle. People that he met on the way were bowing and gave a weird look when Blaine ignored them completely, simply ran passing the crowd.

The longer he ran, the more he could remember. His father summoned him to inform Wes' injury, but where was he from to get the injury in the first place?

He was panting hard when he finally reached the medic room. The room was enormous and was dominated by white linen. There were at least one hundred beds; each was separated by thin white curtain. Few female healers walked to certain curtain while holding a tray of medicine. The air was thick with the smell of strong alcohol and herbal medicine.

Blaine always hates the medic room.

He strode in and found a healer who came out from behind a curtain near him. He immediately grabbed her elbow to stop her and almost felt guilty when she nearly dropped the tray she carried.

"Where's General Wes?" Blaine asked in rush; his a bit too loud voice was echoing across the room.

"H-he's in that curtain, seventh on the right," she answered nervously, pointing toward the curtain he mentioned. "Pardon me, my Lord, but you mustn't..."

Blaine did not let her finish and quickly hurried himself to the bed she mentioned. His heart drummed as he slowly opened the closed curtain and sunk it to the bottom when he finally saw his friend.

If Blaine did not recognize the small movement on Wes' chest, he would have thought his friend had died.

Half of Wes' body was covered with thick bandage. The below part of his limbs were hidden behind a blanket, but even so the damaged was far to sever to be hidden by a mere cloth.

There were a scent of burnt all over his face. The worst part was in the right side, where another bandage covered his half head, including his eye. It was a relieve to see Wes was not unconscious so he did not have to suffer from the wounds.

Blaine closed his eyes. His hands formed a tight fist as the last puzzle finally completed his memory.

Wes was attacked by McKinley's soldier.

A low moan escaped the patient in front of Blaine and snapped his mind back in reality. He quickly dropped onto his knees beside the bed at the same time as Wes' eyelid cracked a bit, showed a tired expression that almost brought him to tears.

"Wes?" Blaine said slowly, afraid that if he talked louder he would do harm to his weak body.

Wes blinked, as if trying to focus on his face. He moved his lips to form a word but only managed a strained gasp and he grunted in pain; Blaine could see there was an unsaid question in his eyes.

"Ssh, you're in Dalton now," he whispered, calming him down by gripping his uninjured trembling hand. It felt clammy and cold.

"_Blanket._"

He quickly draped the blanket he just summoned above the old one, tucked it neatly to buy some warmth for his friend.

"Blaine . . ." The voice was harsh and barely heard but Blaine could still hear it. When he looked back at him, Wes' eye had found his.

"Who did this to you, Wes?" Blaine's voice was strained; tears threatened to escape his barrier. To see Wes, the Great General who always brings victory for Dalton, suffered from such injury literally torn him apart.

How did this happen? If this was an ambush, most of the beds the medic room would be occupied; there must be less than ten patient if he was right. There was no way the entire castle did not acknowledge this attack if it was done inside or even near the castle. His head hurt again; he felt like he should know the answer but could not recall it.

"Try to rest. Tomorrow I will leave Dalton toward McKinley and I swear I'll make them pay."

Blaine was about to leave when Wes' hand reached him weakly.

"Don't . . . King, he . . ." Each words he produced with his torn face put him in fire but his eye and tone showed urgency in it. Blaine patted his hand, tried to calm him down.

"The King himself sent me there. They started a war on you, Wes, and we need to act."

"No . . not what . . . happened," he forced it out, panting himself as the pain consumed him.

"What do you mean?" Blaine's brow furrowed confusedly.

"Glad to see you're awake, Wes."

He turned to the familiar voice and spotted Sebastian outside the curtain.

"And the same thing goes to you, Blaine," he greeted him but did not move inside to join them. "I hate to say this but we need to see Will for your preparation to McKinley tomorrow."

"I understand." Blaine returned his attention to Wes, his lips kept moving with no power to produce the voice. With apologetic look, he opened Wes' weak grip on him and put it on his side. "Bye, Wes. I pray to Gods for your health."

With that, Blaine gave him a last pat on the shoulder and departed the medic with Sebastian. Until he left his bed, Wes still gave him the pleading look. Blaine thought it must be the trauma from his injury, so he ignored it.

"Did he say anything to you when he woke up?" Sebastian asked suddenly when they reached the west side of the castle, heading toward the armory section.

"No, he just keep calling my name franticly. Maybe he had a trauma," he sighed. Who doesn't?

"I see."

"What happened to him?" Blaine asked bitterly, palm formed into a fist. They ignored a group of soldier who went passed them and gave salute and simply walked through them.

Sebastian went silent for a moment before he gave him the answer reluctantly. "He was in patrol duty when they ambushed him."

"Patrol? Why on earth did Wes do a patrol duty? He's_ the_ Great General of Dalton!" For the first time, his frustration exploded. Generals like Nick and the rest of them were rarely get the patrol duty, moreover someone like Wes. Even the stupidest person on the kingdom could tell that Dalton's main general will not do such a low job.

Sebastian looked even more uncomfortable but he just shrugged it off. "That's what I've heard. You'd best talk to him after returning from McKinley."

McKinley. He remembered his mission since the moment he awoke; to kill their heir. For the first time in his life, the King had acknowledged him. If he succeeded, he would not only avenged Wes but also brought the victory for Dalton. He would not deny the fact that the idea of killing someone brought chills in him since he was never allowed to go to war with the Generals, but his thirst of his father's attention made him quickly pushed it aside. This was the only chance to made his father proud and he would not let it slip easily.

They arrived in the armory section a moment later. Blaine rarely went there, since he could create his own weapons by choice, but the sight had not changed.

The first thing they saw was smoke; lots of them that they could barely see upfront. The air was hot and dry from the fireplaces that were used by the blacksmith to make weapons. Loud clangs rang shouted through their ears each time a blacksmith hammering a weapon.

As they went farther into the so called warehouse, a young soldier approached them and grinned politely when he saw his guests.

"Prince Blaine, General Sebastian," he bowed politely. "My name is Will and I'm the one who is in charge here. I assume you come here for the mission preparation?"

Blaine gave a curt nod.

"Very well. Follow me, gentleman." Will led them through the smoke and workers to the back of the working room. There was a stone stairs that lead them to the underground and that was where they headed.

On the next door they met, it led into a smaller room than the first one upstairs. Blaine's heart drummed as he observed one of the rooms he had never been into, and found it completely different from his original guess.

The room was not bigger than his bedroom, and all they could see in there was racks that held various jars and bottles that each was filled with different things. The closest jar in his side contained small eyeballs as the size of peanut. Blaine turned his gaze from it after his stomach protested his sight.

"The King's messenger had told me about your mission," Will started by moving through the racks with Blaine and Sebastian behind him. "Since you can produce your own weapon, you will not need anything from the upper section."

"So what is in this lower section?" Blaine asked, ignoring how he sounded like he did not want to be here in the first place. If Will noticed this he did not show it.

"These, my Lord, are our main weapon," he said with a big smirk as he motioned toward the weird things around them. "Dalton is blessed with so many rare magical plants and animals that other kingdoms did not have. You can beat sword by spear, but one can't escape death if they consumed one of these. Don't worry," he added with an amused smile when Blaine flinched from the rack he just observed, "Not all of them are poisonous, and that is also our main reason to be here."

Will stopped at the last rack that stood in the deep corner of the room. There were fewer jars on that rack and most of them were covered by dust. The soldier knelt, looking at the jars below for a while before he grabbed one and stood up.

The jar was almost empty except it was filled with small white beans not bigger than the eyeballs he saw earlier. He was relieved that they were not eyeballs indeed.

"These beans were collected from the rare Breyta plant. It can change your eyes' color as desired."

Blaine's eyes grew wide when he heard it. "It does?"

Will shrugged. "Yes, but we never use it since we took the color very serious here, even the other kingdoms' do; but since you must blend with them then I think it would be perfect for your cover."

"The process is simple. You eat one of these, close your eyes and think of a color, and there you go. The effect will last a day so make every bean count." Will held the jar as if weighing it and continued, "I think there are about 30 beans in here, so that means you only got a month in McKinley. Here, you should try it first."

Blaine's heart drummed when Will dropped one of the beans onto his palm. Changing his eyes' color was no different than being someone else he did not, all in a whole new level. Not only he would leave his identity, beside his power, behind but also claimed to be part of their enemies.

He preferred to do it quickly to suppress his guilt; so he threw it inside his mouth. It tasted sweet, oddly. Remembering the instruction, he quickly closed his eyes and let his thoughts wandering to the color of gold. The color of arrogance, cowardice, and glamor that they did not deserve to have at all.

Ten seconds passed and slowly he opened his eyes. Both of the soldiers who watched him carefully blinked in surprise when they met his eyes.

"Wow, I can't believe it worked," Will sighed in relieved, somehow did not notice Sebastian's glare toward him after he said it. Blaine ignored it and looked around nervously to find a mirror. He stopped abruptly when he could see his reflection from a jar filled with transparent liquid.

This was very wrong. No matter how hard Blaine saw into his reflection, there was no trace of the color of Dalton. He could only see a stranger with his face but the eyes of the enemies who hurt Wes. It felt really wrong for him.

"If this help, gold doesn't suit you at all," Sebastian said from his back, apparently knew what troubled him.

Blaine shifted his gaze from the jar to the dirty floor beneath them, trying not to see that person again.

"It will never be."

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Breyta means "to change" in Icelandic :)

Please review, my speed of updating depends on it!


	4. Chapter 3 - Rise and Fall

A/N :I'm so happy I can finally finish this chapter since I have so many tests this week! Warning for violence and blood in this one (and maybe on the following chapter since this is a war story, but in the mean time only for this chapter), I will rate it M to be safe. Thanks for another positives and I hope you enjoy this one :D

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee, but the plot of this story is mine

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**Rise and Fall **

Blaine could not sleep that night.

As the clock ticked, the realizations of what he would face tomorrow were like being amplified ten times worse. At dawn, he would leave Dalton. Two days later, he would be in the enemies' territory. Before the end of month, he must kill the royal family of McKinley.

Could he do it? He knew he never had the option to refuse since that was not how his father ruled the kingdom. No matter how much he wanted to take revenge on them, deep down in his heart, he did not like the idea of killing since the start. In the end, he did not have the guts to say no. Who knew what the king would do to him if he refused the mission?

He continued to have that kind of thoughts until the hourglass beside his bed told him it was time to prepare himself. Slowly, felt exhausted already, he cleaned himself and changed into his training outfit since he needed something comfortable but could be thrown away once he arrived at McKinley.

A knock at his door made him sighed. He quickly put on his boots and a black coat, and tied the leather pocket filled with Breyta beans on his belt. He wished he did not have to consume all of it, which meant that he would return here in less than 30 days.

Blaine did not feel optimistic about his chances, but he had to try.

Trent had stood outside his room when Blaine opened the door. His friend's expression mirrored his own, worry; but Trent forced a weak smile to cover it and Blaine appreciated it a lot.

What he did not expect was when his friend suddenly gave him a tight hug. He did not protest it, though; he knew just how bad he needed the comfort even if it was a lie.

"Ready?" Trent asked still with a forced smile as he finally broke the hug.

_No_.

"Yeah." Blaine could see doubt in Trent's expression for a second but both of them did not say anything and Trent nodded on that.

Soon Trent led their way to the *stable*. The torches hanging on the wall were their only source of light since sun had not replaced the moon and stars. They met no one on their way, as expected.

"Will my parents come to give me their bless?" Blaine asked suddenly as they were out of the castle and walked toward the big stable, where a big meadow lie behind it.

Trent shook his head apologetically. Blaine fisted his palm but otherwise said nothing. He should have known it better than other people.

The stable's gate was opened and its inside was illuminated by the torches already. As they went inside, the caretaker named David who was in charge of Dalton's animals along with his men greeted them, but Blaine's eyes immediately fell on a black Pegasus behind the man.

"Hey there, Pavarotti!" Blaine rub its mane, making Pavarotti instantly neighed gleefully. He chuckled as it rubbed its nose back at him, clearly demanding him not to stop anytime soon.

"I miss you too," he sighed fondly, smiled for the first time since Wes' comeback yesterday.

Blaine found it when he was on his regular visit to the stable for his love on animals six years ago. The poor creature lying on the back side of the barn, previously attacked by a Wolve (Addams' breed between wolf and tiger that create a wolf alike but with white fur and the size of tiger, a pair 4 inches fangs, and ten times more vicious that both species combined) and the previous caretaker did not bother to try to save it at the very least. The man defended himself that with such injuries (two of its legs were torn badly), it would not last long.

He soon fired the man, promoted David who was only a subordinate at the time, called a healer from the medic room, and three of them were staying for a week at the stable and then supervised it for the following months until the Pegasus could stand up again. By the time it was fully recovered, Blaine had fallen in love with it and decided to keep it as his personal mount under the name of Pavarotti, a random name he found at the library that he liked a lot.

Trent's hand on his shoulder took him back to the reality. It seemed that it was just yesterday he found Pavarotti on the stable; its height was not taller than his at that time. Now, Blaine had to look up to meet its eyes, the same eyes that made him do whatever he can to save it. Pavarotti had flown him thousand times since then but this time, it might be their last chances to own the sky.

Blaine took over the rain from David who nodded respectfully at him and four of them walked toward the field outside the stable. He did not take his hand off Pavarotti's head, somehow knowing that one of his best friend were there for him.

They stopped under the dark sky. It was still dark but they could see a tinge of red on the horizon. The journey to McKinley took a day so if Blaine left now, he could arrive there also at dawn and gave him time to sneak inside the kingdom. Reluctantly, he climbed onto his Pegasus' back and clutches tightly on the rain. He tightened his cloak and put on the hood as a small protection toward the wind. Pavarotti was stomping eagerly, clearly could not wait to stretch his wings. He could not suppress his sad smile on that.

"Just head to the West, you should arrive before the sun rise. And beware of their patrol guard, I really don't want you to end up like Wes," Trent said bitterly as he handed a map of McKinley's surrounding.

Blaine's hand stopped in the air when he was about to reach for it. "What do you mean? I thought he was ambushed here in Dalton?"

Trent's face blushed and seemed wants to swear, there was also another flash of guilt on his face.

"Never mind, I just need sleep. That's all."

Blaine was silence for a moment, his expression kept blank from his dissapointment. Suddenly, he snatched the rope and Pavarotti unfolded his wings. He ignored Trent who fell from the shock that its wing almost hit his face and without another word he urged Pavarotti to take a run and then slowly took them to the sky. He did not glance toward the ground after that, not even once.

Even though the sensation was amazing, for the first time his mind did not leave his body. As his Pegasus racing with the sun toward West side of Second World, his heart ached in betrayed as he kept thinking about the lies they told him. First, Sebastian; then Trent.

What is everybody hiding from him?

* * *

It was noon when Blaine was half way to the McKinley. They passed the valley that marked each other's territory and now he was officially in the enemy's land.

He was getting more cautious as they continued their journey. So far they found no obstacles, except with a group of falcons as they flew above the woods. Blaine had to summon a bow and quiver to shot them down from attacking Pavarotti and himself, his ears still throbbing painfully from their sonic hawking. However, this was different. McKinley animal's characteristics were very different from Dalton's since they also represent the kingdom's strength. So, if Dalton's animals like those falcons they just met were using sound as a weapon, there was no guarantee they would not meet a hawk who can spit fire.

The sky was getting darker now, the sun almost fully disappeared on the direction they went ahead. Blaine could feel Pavarotti was tired too since it flew much slower than when they just left Dalton.

"Let's take a break, Pavarotti," he said, rubbing its mane. "We still got time to . . . "

Suddenly, an arrow flew few inches from Pavarotti's head, forcing it stopped abruptly in the air and whinnied in panic. Blaine almost fell from the sudden stop but managed to catch the rain. Another arrow flew toward them, this time nearly hit him.

"_Up!_ Go higher!" Blaine shout and his Pegasus flew higher to avoid more arrows.

He expected some weird animals to attack them but he did not think that they would meet McKinley's soldier at the borderline. Were they trying to go to Dalton for another attack?

"_Bow, arrows!_" he barked, summoning another weapon since he dropped the last one back in the forest. A little light from the sunset was giving him both advantage and disadvantage. The enemies could see them thanks to the light; but on the other hand he could see them too.

When another arrow flew toward him, he scanned the woods for the archers and found one of them. No, he found two; there was another one stood not too far from the first archer. Blaine grabbed onto the rope and guided Pavarotti a little bit closer to the wood. After dodging an arrow from the first archer, he aimed for the second man and released his own arrow before going up again. The shooting stopped for a moment after that so he assumed he hit the target right.

Blaine glanced worriedly toward the sun. If the sun set, he would not able to track them again but he could not let them inform the kingdom that there was a spy from Dalton.

He had no choice. He had to kill them all.

The problem was he did not know how many of them were still there. He would be finished if one of them managed to get back to McKinley. Arrows were coming toward them once again. His mind battling on what he would do as the time ticked.

"Put me down, Pavarotti," he finally said. Pavarotti made a worried sound but nevertheless it obeyed him. Blaine guided them down to the woods, putting a distance between them and the archers. When its legs touched the ground, he quickly jumped off the saddle and gave a firm slap to Pavarotti's back leg. The Pegasus got the signal and it flew again to the now already dark sky.

"Drop your weapon!" a heavy voice barked at him from his back. Two more coming from his front, bows were ready to shot arrows. Both of them wearing a similar uniform to the one in Dalton, the only differences were the pattern on the black leather vest and the shirt that was colored in yellow copper. Their eyes; they were the same as the one Blaine saw after he ate Breyta, the color was pure gold.

Blaine threw away his bow and dropped his quiver, then raised his hands as a sign of surrender. "I'd like to meet your King," he said calmly, contrary to his drumming heart. If this did not work, he would definitely made himself got killed.

"So you can kill His Majesty like one of your man who sneaked into our territory?" said the voice behind his back once again, he could tell the man was getting closer. Blaine braved himself to slowly turn around to see who was talking. He, unlike the other two, was holding a sword. By the way he talked and walked, he could tell that this was their group leader. He also looked older, maybe around his 30. His men were not older than him, though.

"Wasn't that what you're trying to do when you ambushed our man?" exclaimed Blaine angrily, lowered his hands in disgust.

The remark earned him a hard punch in the face. The forced made him knelt as he wiped the blood from his torn lips. At this point, they obviously did not know who Blaine was.

"Watch your tongue," the leader hissed above him. Blaine's hands were snatched and bound with a rope behind his back before he could recover. The soldiers dragged him up on his legs and the leader moved forward so they were now facing each other.

"You want to meet our King? Very well, let Him decide what we should do to you. I hope it's painful because you just cost me one of my men."

One of the soldiers whistled four times and a moment later three white Pegasus flew down in front of them. As everyone's attention was on their ride, Blaine summoned a knife that appeared on his palm and quietly cutting off the rope.

"What are going to do with Ryder's Pegasus, Sir?" the soldier, who held Blaine asked the leader, still had not notice his fingers were shifting up and down with the knife.

"We take it with us. This spy is going with me," he said, threw a hateful glance toward Blaine. They started to walk toward the Pegasus when Blaine stopped abruptly.

"Wait, there were only four of you who guard the borderline? As a member of Dalton's royal family, I feel insulted," he said in a cold, authoritative voice.

The leader stopped before he had the chance to jump on the saddle and gave him a mocking smile. "Royal family? You mean as their servant?"

"No." He gripped onto the knife tightly in anger. "As their _prince_."

He stabbed the soldier that was handling him from the start in his chest. The second soldier prepared his bow frantically but Blaine pulled out the knife as the first soldier fell down and this time threw it to his direction; it also landed on his chest.

Two men were down. The leader was running toward his direction with his sword ready to be used. Blaine took a few steps back and yelled, "_Sword!_"

A silver sword that he had produced hundred times appeared on his palm and he grabbed it in time to block the soldier's sword before it hit his neck. Blaine kicked his chest and took advantage of the momentum to launch his sword toward the chest. The leader was apparently recovered quickly than he predicted and not only he managed to dodge the stab but also caught Blaine's right arm and gripped tightly onto it.

Before Blaine could pull out his arm, a sudden pain rushed through his whole body. His eyes twisted back and did not realize that he was screaming. His body felt as if it was burned from inside. His mind lost between the pain that would not stop coming.

The next thing he knew was he was lying on the ground. His whole body trembled badly and he had dropped his sword long before he even realised it. His enemy towering above him and for a second he could see a glint of electricity dancing on his palm. That bastard had electrocuted him, and he thought electricity was only a myth!

"Prince or not, you're finished."

The soldier raised his sword and made a stabbing move toward him.

"_Spear!_"

Blood splattered across his face as Blaine lunged a spear to his stomach before his sword reached him. The soldier's eyes grew wide from the shock before Blaine pushed the spear forward and made him collapse not above him.

Everything was silent after that; the only sound was Blaine's ragged breath from the pain that still remained. Unable to cling onto the surroundings, he embraced the darkness and with that, numbed the pain instantly.

* * *

For those who waiting for Kurt's appearance, it would be on the next chapter. Sorry for that and the cliffhanger!

FYI, reviews never fail to boost my speed on updating ;)


	5. Chapter 4 - Respect and Courage

A/N : Chapter 4 is up! Hope you like it :)

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee, but the plot of this story is mine

* * *

**Respect and Courage**

Blaine blinked twice when he felt something wet nudged his cheek.

The first thing he registered was a headache. He groaned weakly and was about to roll over when another pain shot from his entire limbs. He squeezed his eyes while trying to suppress another groan but failed miserably. That was when he saw Pavarotti towering him; its nose was no more than an inch from Blaine's face.

He tried to sit down, but when he moved his right arm to support his weight the fire came back and he fell again. Stars clouded his mind from the impact; his whole body felt like he had been stomped by a group of Pegasus. He brought his right arm carefully to see the damage that soldier had made and it was not pretty; there was a print of red palm as if it was craved there by hot iron on the skin beneath the burned clothes.

Blaine tried again and this time, with a lot of effort and precaution, he managed to slump onto a tree near him. As he caught his breath, he observed his surroundings. The sky indicated that it was morning already, but beside that nothing had changed. His enemies were still dead on the ground, blood splattered everywhere, including in his face and clothes. The Pegasus was nowhere to be found so he assumed they flew away when he passed out.

Blaine massaged the bridge of his nose. He just killed three men in one night. Now he understood completely why he despised his father's root for war. Killing someone was not a fun thing to do.

I had to do it, he tried defended himself; but the burden was still there, getting heavier as he recalled what happened last night. He was glad that he survived the ambush, but at what cost?

He felt as if he finally was becoming like his father.

Pavarotti was still on his side; sometimes it moved like he was nervous seeing his master was injured. Blaine was beyond glad his Pegasus was okay, otherwise he would not forgive himself no matter what was the excuse. He reached out for it and the Pegasus obediently moved its head toward the open palm of his.

"Thanks," he murmured to his friend while rubbing it longingly. It gave a low whinny and both of them were silent for a while.

Once again he looked at the sky. It seemed he passed out the entire night. His empty stomach confirmed it immediately and he felt guilty for Pavarotti too. He opened his other palm and tried to muster a bit of his energy to summon what they need.

"_Rock sugar._" A slight pain pierced through his head but nevertheless some medium size rock sugars appeared on his palm. He raised it to Pavarotti's muzzle and it quickly crunched them all at once. Blaine smiled a little, knowing how much Pavarotti loves rock sugar.

The next thing he summoned was bread, assuming that he did not have the strength to summon anything fancier than that. He was right; in the end he could only get almost stale bread. Pavarotti nudged him for more rock sugar but Blaine pushed it aside slowly. "Sorry, no more for now. I just can't."

Pavarotti made a snort sound and walked away from him. Blaine sighed and took a bite of his own meal and almost threw up from it. It tasted off and much worse than kingdom cook's ginger bread that he hated so much. In the end, he chewed down all of it; he needed the stamina to continue his journey until he could summon another one for him and Pavarotti.

After Blaine finished eating and fortunately could conjure a little amount of water for both of them, he shakily stood up with Pavarotti as a lever and managed to lean against it. The sun was right above them by the time but the trees were blocking its light from them and Blaine was grateful for that; his headache had not gone completely and he doubted the harsh light would do good for him.

Blaine knew they need to continue their journey; he had fallen way behind the schedule; but, by Dalton's name, his limbs were still constantly shaking and the pain was not ceased. Also, he could not just walk in front of McKinley people with red clothes and covered with blood all over it.

His original plan was to sneak inside their fortress and changed his clothes into civilian attire in there, but he was getting the idea that they had waited for enemies to come; otherwise they would not put guards on the borderline like this. He needed another plan; how to blend and walked away safely even if he encountered with one of them of the guards.

Pavarotti was searching for more food apparently as it went circle around the area but did not go too far from Blaine. He watched the Pegasus wandered near the fallen soldiers and suddenly a crazy idea went through his mind.

* * *

It took all day for him to finally able to conjure a full attire of McKinley soldier's uniform. By the time he had succeeded, it was noon again and he almost passed out again from the fatigue. Luckily, Blaine managed to keep his eyes opened and slowly forced himself to change. It was a slow and agonizing process, McKinley had too many layers and the whole leather pads' straps were very complicated for his cloudy mind, but nevertheless he did it. He then conjured a flick of flame and burnt his bloody clothes into ashes, leaving no trace that a Dalton soldier just went into McKinley's territory.

He took a quick nap while waiting for the flame to eat the clothes. It was dark already and the urge to fall asleep was tempting but he knew he should leave soon before they knew something was wrong with their patrol guards.

"Pav, come here," his voice sounded strained but luckily the Pegasus could hear him and walked closer to him. It mistook his call for wanting to give it more sugar rocks because once again its nose nuzzled his palm.

"Stop it; I said I don't have it anymore. Now stand still."

He barely raised his right foot at the height of his knee and pain shot from his joint. Curse those McKinleys and their sick power! He took a deep, frustrating breath and with all the energy he got he leaped onto the saddle and pushed himself on top of Pavarotti.

"West, don't stop," he muttered tiredly, did not wait until they flew to let his eyes closed and fallen asleep under the black sky.

* * *

He slept restless on the way to their destination. The harsh wind and Pavarotti wings' movement always took him back to reality and in the end doubled his tiredness.

Fortunately for them, they met no one or anything that attacked until morning so it was a huge relief for him. Pavarotti seemed to be in better shape after taking a rest while he was passing out the other and eating the sugar rocks because his speed was increasing and that was also good news for him.

The sun was about to rise once more, judging from the tint of orange at their back. Blaine turned around, looking at the breathtaking view and only got a pang of sorrow in return. Dalton seemed far away from where he was now. To be honest, this was the first time Blaine was out from the Dalton's main gate and he felt like a caged bird that was free at last, but now after he was out, he was lost. He lived in Dalton but not once he considered it as a home. Home was where everybody accepted you there, so how could he consider it as one if his own parents despised him?

Blaine looked straight forward to his destination and did not look back anymore. He repeated the words that he already said million times inside his head; that he would bring glory to Dalton and earned respect and love from his parents.

As the sun rose higher, its light shone the remaining scenery beneath them. However, his eyes caught something in front of them and when he realised what it was, goosebumps running through his entire body.

On the line of hills approximately ten miles from his position, lie an enormous wall that was protecting a huge mass of civilian residents that resembled a town like in Dalton, only it was twice bigger than that. Even from afar, he could see that their fortress was strong and was possibly one of many reasons why his father could not defeat them, but that was not what made him amazed. It was the enormous white marble castle that stood proudly in the middle of it, the opposite of Dalton's always seemed to be dark castle. Looking at such majestic view, even if it was belong to his enemy, made his jaw dropped in awe.

Their distance was getting shorter; the scenery of McKinley was even more stunning from closer distant. However, it also gave Blaine a clearer sight and realised that on top of each pillar of the wall were posts with at least 5 soldiers on it, guarded the main gate as the only entrance inside except the sky. Also, the wall was much taller than he thought from afar earlier.

As they were getting closer to the fortress, fear came back to his sense. Should he just fly over it? No, bad choice; it would definitely draw a target mark on his head. Maybe he'll do just what his friends did when they were in patrol duty.

He just hoped that the procedures were same with what they had.

"Pav, fly lower and land us in front of the gate," Blaine said slowly as he pulled the rope to direct it. It obeyed him and soon they were flying through the rest of the forest before reaching the meadow that covered the hills. He luckily did not forget the Breyta beans; quickly, he threw one inside his mouth and closed his eyes, thinking of those eyes that almost made him got killed him the other night. When he opened his eyes, Pavarotti had landed and the gate stood proudly in front of him.

This had to work.

Few posts had noticed his present and the gate was being opened from inside. Blaine could not suppress his groan when he jumped off the saddle and stumbled a bit, almost lost his balance for a second. He wanted to stand straight on his own but his body was being difficult with him again so he leaned to Pavarotti and waited for four men and one that seemed at the same age as him but looked far more superior to the rest of them from the gate to approach him.

"Sir." He tried to at least bow like a low soldier should do, but soon realised it was a mistake because his body decided to slip from Pavarotti's support and collapsed to his front.

A pair of strong hand suddenly caught him before making contact with the ground. He blinked in shock as his eyes met with their seemed to be leader and tried to process the words that he said to him.

"What happen to you, soldier?"

The bean and his uniform seemed to be working; so far they had not attack him yet, but that was not the one who took him aback.

The blonde soldier sounded actually _concerned_ about him.

In Dalton, he never saw any higher rank soldier treat their lower men like this man did to him. The rank could be determined from the color of his uniform; the darker it was the more superior the man who wore it; and the leader who just caught him from falling down wore the same dark tone as his generals.

"Take him to the infirmary!" he shouted to his men behind him, but Blaine had found his feet and refused to accept his support.

". .'m fine," he stuttered, moved too quickly from the leader's supporting grip on his arms and insisted on standing on his own. The blonde leader raised an eyebrow at him and him but the concern had not gone from his eyes. "What's your name, soldier?"

Blaine took a second before deciding to use his middle name. "Devon."

"Devon, are you part of Captain Karofsky's patrol group in the borderline?" he asked worriedly as if he might fell again. Blaine nodded to safe his breath but turned out it only worsened his headache.

"What happened?"

"Ambush," he mumbled, not even had to act to convince them. "Don't know who but they . . . killed captain and the others. They hit me, passed out. Went back as soon as I woke up."

It was not completely a lie. He did pass out, and the rest of them were dead if they decided to check his story.

The leader gasped abruptly at his story but managed to hide his frustration from Blaine; or maybe he just did not notice because suddenly he really wanted to lie down to keep his vision spinning.

"Lance, Eli; take him to the infirmary." The leader straightened his body and seemed eager to leave quickly; no doubt reporting this to the authority above his rank. As he stepped away from him, he let himself breathe in relieved. This was the best incident so far since he left Dalton.

"Good job, soldier. I'm glad you made it home safely."

Blaine's head snapped up and caught a small smile from the leader before he strode away with the remaining men.

Did he just . . . praise him? He knew he did not deserve it but . . . How long since someone treat him with so much respect? Besides his friends, no one had truly had that on him; they all bowed because they had to, not because they honored him. After he left, they would talk about how he failed as a prince and a son of the King. That man did not even know Blaine who currently dressed as a low rank soldier and yet he still show more respect than all those hypocrite in Dalton. Not just that, he called the kingdom as a home. That statement itself almost undone his mental barrier.

"Can you walk?" Lance's concerned voice brought him back to reality. The soldier was going to take his arm but he instantly batted it away; Blaine did not like to accept any kind of help or what he saw as pity and it would not change here.

"I can walk just fine; just lead the way," he rasped tiredly but did not let any weakness showed in his glares.

Lance's eyebrow raised an inch and seemed offended by him. "Relax! I was just trying to help."

"Thank you, but no, thank you." Blaine was getting annoyed by his tone and voice. His headache came back and the man did not help him at all.

"But you barely . . ."

"Why don't you take care of the Pegasus and I will take him to the infirmary?" Eli suddenly interrupted them when Blaine started to get tensed as his temper rose. The tone left him no choice as he sighed and left them only to come back with Pavarotti's rain on his hand.

"Where do you take it to?" Blaine in panic was about to confront Lance but Eli's firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"He will return it to the stable, as usual. If you want, you can visit it later," Eli said calmly. He only let him go when his shoulder slumped in defeat and watched them disappeared behind the gate. Blaine supposed it was the best for him and Pavarotti.

He was a bit late to realise that Eli was also heading toward the gate; he suppress the pain as far as he could and followed him in slow and shaky steps. Eli seemed to notice his pain because he soon slowed his walking tempo for him, making Blaine easier to follow him and protect his pride.

They both went through the opened gate and the sight that greeted them made Blaine's jaw fell.

He never knew how much he missed the sight of Dalton's town until he saw the familiar yet different activities there.

It was still early in the morning so everybody was preparing their store with the goods they sold. As the walked toward the castle through the town, Blaine could smell the fresh bread from the oven, the sweet scent from the flower booth he could not tell what flower it was coming from, and scent of fresh blood from the meat market.

That was what he felt familiar with. What he did not was when he saw kids chasing a cat who was covered by flame (it did not look like it was in pain so he terrifying suspicion he had first when he saw it), a lady grew flowers on an empty pot in a second, and a man who _flew_ toward the roof and repaired the broken sign as if he done it million times.

They soon passed what seemed to be their main square where some people tried to get their fortune through performing. He could not suppress his smile when he could see younger Blaine stole the attention with his magic tricks.

"What's your name again?" Eli suddenly asked him, slowing his steps more so he was walking on his side.

"Devon," he answered casually, pretending the flame thrower near them caught his attention.

"Devon," Eli repeated it slowly. "Are you a new guy? Cause I haven't of you until now."

His heart skipped a beat but he tried to get along with the lie. "Yes, I got in last week."

"Hmm, no wonder. So what's your power, if you don't mind telling me?"

His heart stopped when he heard the question. He was too busy focusing on his eyes color and completely forgot how to lie about his power.

"I do mind," he said shortly in the end. Asking someone's power was more personal than asking for their name so he hoped Eli would drop this soon enough.

"Hey, you two!"

Eli was about to say something to him when they heard a woman's voice over the crowd. He stopped abruptly and quickly turned around toward the voice behind them, his face was frozen in fear. Blaine confusedly copied his move and also turned his gaze to his back.

"General Lopez," Eli greeted the female figure who strode toward them with a forced smile. Blaine's eyes shot wide. _They have women as General?_

She approached quickly and glare murderously at both of them that made Blaine unconciously took a step back.

"Don't you _General _me, bass face. Where's your General? And you two better have a good explanation about how you are here instead of doing whatever your job is," she barked the words viciously in one breath, making few people near them gave weird look and avoided .

"General Evans just left the gate, Ma'am, and he sent me to take him to the infirmary," Eli motioned at Blaine as he talked.

"The patrol team in the borderline has been attacked so he probably . . ."

"The team has been _what_?" she cut him quickly, her voice raised a tone from the news. "You take me to him _now _and you," for the first time, she acknowledge Blaine and shifted her glare at him, "I'm sure a walk on your own won't kill."

"But ma'am, he . . ."

"It's okay," Blaine quickly interrupted Eli. After all, he needed to start his search soon. "I can go there by myself."

"Good. Now can we go? I don't have all day."

Eli shot him an apologetic look before following the General with the look that said he had been sent to a tiger's mouth; Blaine almost felt sorry for him.

At last he was alone. Well, alone in the middle of the crowd to be exact, and he was saved from having to tell about his power. For a moment he feared that General Lopez would take him too but thank Dalton she did not; that woman was a creep. The conversation, however, confirmed that the leader he met earlier was in fact a general. His respect on him grew much more knowing this.

A loud whinnying sound from the other side of the square caught up his attention. From where he stood which was not far from the source of the voice, he could see a giant horse (his size was twice as a normal Pegasus but without wings) that was tied to four different wooden post was becoming the main attraction in the square. Crowds gathered around it and giving _ohh _every time it stomped angrily and shook the ground. He overheard a voice of a man who seemed to be its trainer when he was bragging about his 'weird creature' proudly. The man wore a black coat over his shabby shirt and brown trousers but the left arm of the clothes was hanging loosely from his absent arm.

"This beast, ladies and gentlemen, said to be the Devil's ride himself. When he run, nothing but its owner will stop it, and as it did that each step will open the door of the First World and unleash the horror to this earth; but I managed to catch him. I had to sacrifice my left arm to the Devil for this beautiful creature but it was such an honour to have it. Behold, The Beast!"

Blaine almost laughed at that monologue. Since he saw that horse, he knew exactly that it was none other than a Bisou. Dalton had a lot of them in the forest around the kingdom and few of them which was less vicious than the others had become the General's property.

McKinley probably had never seen it before and somehow he was shock that man was able to capture it but it was clearly a stupid move to just tie the wild horse into a mere wooden post. In Dalton, they had to build a cage made of the hardest metal because Bisou's skin was basically harder than common metal and with that could easily destroying them. Blaine loved animals but not this one; this was a true beast.

Blaine walked away limply from the center of the square toward an old woman behind a table full of colorful cakes and cookies; it was their problem if something bad happened and he was too hungry to care about it.

"How much are these?" Blaine asked the lady as he pointed the biggest creamy cake he could detect on the table.

"Two silvers for that, young man," she answered with a warm smile, eager for a new customer.

Blaine pretended to get the silver by putting his hand on his trouser's pocket. "Two silvers, you said?" His palm suddenly held two coins that he summoned but a sudden pain came back to his head and he could not help but grasping the edge of table trying to make everything stop spinning.

"Are you okay, son?"

He gritted his teeth and forced a small smile for the concerned lady. "Common headache, sorry" he excused his behavior quickly and let the table go once the worse wave of dizziness passed.

"Mrs. Marple, long time no see!"

A new voice came from his left as he handed the silvers to her. Her face lit up when she saw who was the new customer.

"My . . . " she stopped suddenly before continued, "I mean, Kurt!"

Blaine rolled his eyes in annoyance when the lady completely forgot about his cake. He was there first, for Dalton sake!

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I . . ."

The remaining words never left his lips because when he looked at the person beside him, he lost them.

He did not saw the flame caster, the people walked passed them, or notice the pain still haunted his drained body. All he saw was a man at his age wearing a black cloak covering his entire outfit; the hood covered his head but Blaine could still see the brown hair appeared a bit from beneath it. The skin of his hands that were not covered by the cloak was as pale as a marble statue; but those eyes, the bright golden eyes that was currently gazing at him, was the one that left him speechless without a clue of what was happening to him at that moment.

The color of his eyes was the same as the rest of them and yet it was very different. It did not have the bold stroke like what Blaine saw in General Lopez's. It did not have the tint of resolute like General Evans. It did not have the flame of fierceness like Captain Karofsky. No, what he saw in his eyes was an honest, clear golden that felt so warm and beautiful that made him wanted to go deeper into the soul of its owner.

" . . . not intend to skip the line."

Blaine suddenly realised that he was talking to him. "Sorry?" he asked again with probably a stupid look in his face. When he smiled at him, butterflies flew inside his stomach. What was happening to him?

"I said I'm sorry. I only want to greet Mrs. Marple here and . . . Oh, are you a soldier?" he asked him, seemed to notice his uniform.

"Y-yes?" He cursed himself when he heard the stupid remarked escaped his mouth. Put yourself together, Blaine!

The man seemed to observe him a moment before he frowned a bit. "Are you a new recruitment?"

"Yes, I just got in last week." Blaine was the one who frowned this time when he saw him smiled in amused while Mrs. Marple's eyes widening in disbelief. "Do I suppose to know you?"

"Young man, he is . . ."

"Mrs. Marple," he cut her with a warning tone before she could finish, and turned back to Blaine once more. "What's your name, soldier?"

"I'm B-Devon", the gaze he gave to him almost made him forgot his alias. The man smiled warmly at him and gave a little nod.

"Kurt."

Just as the man named Kurt finished talking, a loud scream erupted from the middle of the square and both three of them turned around in shock to see the Bisou was on his back legs for a second then rocking the ground when he stomped back angrily. The ropes that tied it to the posts were now hanging freely from the beast's neck to everyone's horror.

It was chaos.

In a second, everyone scattered from the square. Among the panic crowd, Blaine could see few men had fallen into the ground as its first victim of anger, including its trainer. The Bisou ran toward anything that moved and brutally attacked the people who were not fast enough to run.

"Take Mrs. Marple with you and get out of here!" Blaine shouted at Kurt to overcome the screaming and without a second thought he ran toward the beast.

"Wait! Wait for backups!" He heard Kurt's voice faintly but he had to stop it fast before it was too late. The square was emptier now that half of the people had run away from there but it was obvious that the creature would not stay long in the square. A civilian threw small fire balls at it but it only made Bisou angrier and hit him hard with its head. Blaine snatched a torch from where the flame caster performed earlier and threw it at its direction.

"Over here!"

The good side was that managed to get its attention.

The bad side was it was now running to his direction.

He noticed a group of soldier arrived and quickly shot their arrows at it, but the arrow barely scratch its skin. He remembered David telling him that Bisou's whole body could resist metal. Fire would do no damage either to it.

"_So, we can't kill them at all?" Twelve years old Blaine asked David when he saw a Bisou from the meadow._

"_It won't be easy but, fortunately for us, they have a weak spot," David explained. "Its mane actually protects the softer skin out of its enemy." He sighed the same way as a father who was proud to see his son. "That creature is amazing."_

Blaine really hated David right now for saying that.

From the side of the square he could see Evans stood in front of his men with horror stroked on his expression; but it did not last long because he maintained his composure quickly and seemed concentrating on the beast. The Blaine saw it; sand slowly covered its legs and managed to slow down the Bisou. Blaine thought he did it and apparently so did Evans because he started to grin widely at his work.

Then the horse whinnied angrily and kicked the sand until it dispersed back into the ground. Blaine groaned in frustration and pretending to grab something from the ground. "Sword . . _GAH!_" Another jab of pain went back to his head but he merely shook it away. He grabbed the sword that he summoned and ran toward the Bisou that still fought with the sand.

"Try to hold it still!" Blaine yelled at Evans as he preparing his sword. The sand suddenly leaped on half of its legs and gave him to seconds to approach the creature safely. He grabbed one of the ropes that hung pretty low to the ground with his right hand and pulled himself up to his back. However, it broke again from the sand and before Blaine could clang his leg to its back, it raised its front legs and gave another hard shook to the ground.

The sudden movement made him slammed to its hard body and for a moment everything was blurry for him but he managed to hold onto his sword and the rope. His legs almost did not touch the ground and his body slammed to it again when the Bisou stubbornly trying to escape. The Bisou almost went out of the square; he could not let that happened!

With his last effort and a dose of luck, he stabbed the sword to the ground, leaped onto its handle and jumped as high as he could to its back. He did it; he managed to clang his leg this time and pulled the rest of his body in a quick move. He grabbed onto its mane as if his life depended on it (it was true), bowed himself to hide his hands from the soldiers that surrounded them, and summoned a knife. As he was blinded once more with pain, he groaned and jabbed the knife onto its back, right on the mane's line.

The Bisou produced a long and painful whinny and stood onto his back legs to shake Blaine off, but he continued to stab it once more, dragging the knife with him to make a long incision as he lost his grip and fell hard to the ground.

The world swirled in his vision and once more he welcomed the darkness that surrounded him.

* * *

What do you think? Please review and thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 5 - Smile and Tears

A/N : Sorry for the long awaited update, I got extra project to finish last week and it took all of my time. Nevertheless, I manage to update so yay! Again, thank you for the kind review and new followers, you made my day :D

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee, but the plot of this story is mine

* * *

**Smile and Tears**

Pain was the first thing that registered in Blaine's mind.

Blaine groaned but did not want to open his eyes, yet. The pain was still there, protruding from all over his body and especially his head, but it was not as bad as last time he remembered so he thought he could handle it.

He tried to move his limbs one by one to check the damage. Other than bruises that covered his whole body (he assumed it did because he could not tell the difference between the pain in his lower and upper body), he was pretty sure he did not lose body parts and that was great news.

When he moved earlier, he thought he was lying on a soft surface. Did he pass out again? This new habit of his was seriously getting embarrassing for him. Everything was a bit foggy inside his mind and he still felt worn out. Maybe he could get more sleep for a couple of more hours; besides, this bed was really comfortable.

Wait.

_Bed?_

Blaine shot his eyes opened and immediately tried to sit down but failed miserably when his vision spin and had him collapsed again onto the bed. The harsh light coming from the window above his head did not help easing his headache and he squinted his eyes until he could adjust with it.

Where was he? No, what happened before and after he passed out? He remembered arriving at McKinley and met the generals, and also the square and festival; yeah, he saw a Bisou there. Then remembered, someone was talking to him at the festival. A man with the most gorgeous eyes he ever seen. What was they were talking about? No, they did not have the chance to talk because people were screaming in panic. The Bisou had escaped from its leash and he had to stop it.

So _that _was where he got the bruises. Blaine frantically scanned his surrounding and somehow felt familiar with it. He must be in the infirmary then; all he could see was the white curtain limiting his vision from another patients. There was also a chair beside his bed; most of his attires were put there and left him only on his trousers and the rest of his body was covered only with blanket. On the right side of his head lie a small table that held a silver cup filled with water.

When his eyes captured his reflection on the cup, his heart literally skipped a beat.

His eyes color had turned back to red.

By Dalton, how long did he passed out exactly? He considered himself really lucky now for not waking up in prison. Scratch that, for waking up at all!

Before he could search for his Breyta beans, he heard foot steps coming to his direction. He cursed and tried to drag himself up. Should he pretend to be asleep? No, he spent too much time in his true color and could not risk more than that. Blaine tossed the blanket that wrapped him and quickly scrambled to a pile of clothes on the chair for the damned beans; his joints quietly protested but his life literally depended on that little thing.

He flipped all the clothes, some of them fell onto the floor but he did not care any less, but in the end he found nothing. Panic started to consume him as the person was getting closer. He jumped over the bed to the table but there was only the cup.

He fell back onto the bed, out of breath, on the same time as a figure of a man stood outside the curtain outside Blaine's bed. The man seemed hesitated to part the curtain; he just stood there with one hand on his lips.

Other people might think that with his power, he may produce anything that he liked to appear for him but two years ago he finally found out that he had the limit; he could not produced anything that had been categorized as rare items or protected by mother nature (for the sake of balance, Jeff mocked him all the time for that). So basically his power was a combination between creating and summoning; if he cannot make it then he take it from somewhere else.

_Well, it was worth a shot._ In his desperation, Blaine did the only thing that was natural for him.

"_Breyta bean._"

He almost yelped in surprise when a small white bean appeared in the middle of his palm. Without a second thought, he threw it into his mouth, grabbed the blanket from the floor and covered himself again, and closed his eyes at the same time the curtain was parted.

Blaine tried to recall his memory about the man with the gorgeous eyes that he met at the festival. For once, he could picture the color perfectly, unlike his first trial.

"Devon?"

His eyes shot opened at the familiar voice and was immediately met by the eyes in his mind.

"_Kurt?_"

The man that he thought would disappear after the Bisou accident was now standing below the parted curtain. The image was not changed a bit; he still managed to steal his breath by just showing up with his golden eyes.

Kurt smiled at him and stepped inside while closing the curtain behind him. His gaze then fell onto the mess that Blaine made.

"Was the Bisou following you here?"

Blaine laughed hard and tried to sit but apparently the pain that he ignored earlier would not leave him just yet and soon his laugh was replaced by mumbling curse; jumping around the room after passing out was certainly a bad idea. Kurt noticed his sudden change of expression and immediately walked toward him in concern.

"Don't, it's fine," he said, pushed Blaine back to the bed. "Should I call a healer?"

"No, no, it's okay, thanks. I get clumsy everytime I was injured," he tried to wave it off but agreed to give up his attempt on sitting down.

Now that Kurt stood right beside him, he got a closer look on him and noticed that he was wearing a soldier uniform, only different on the color and style a bit. It was almost the same color that the generals wore but darker.

"I'm sorry, but my memory was a bit blurry since before I met you. Should I address you as _Sir_?" Blaine asked him carefully but Kurt only smiled back.

"No need to worry. I don't go outside often enough for you all to know me and you're not an exception. Never mind about me," he stirred the conversation to other direction and suddenly he put on an angry face. "You, soldier, on the other hand are definitely out of your mind. Jumping onto that beast and did all those crazy stunts!"

"It's Bisou," he corrected him unconsciously. "But please, do continue, _Sir_," he added quickly along with the title when it earned a deathly glare from the superior man.

"You should wait for back ups and worked as a team. What you did broke at least ten norms of soldier's principal! I thought they teach that at the academy," he continued his outburst, now with crossed arms.

If Blaine could be honest with him, no one had taught that since Dalton was never known for its team work. His trainer always taught him to strike whenever he got the chance and that was what he did at the festival; he moved by instinct.

Blaine was not stupid enough to say it vocally, though, and instead held his tongue while Kurt maintained his hard gaze on him. He could not risk getting punished; he need to start investigate the royal family and there was no time to waste.

"Despite all of that, the kingdom and I sent our gratitude for protecting the citizen."

Blaine was about to open his mouth and defend himself when the words registered in his mind. "Wait, _what?_"

Kurt rolled his eyes but let a small smile slipped from his lips. "You heard me. Although, if you do it again I probably won't stop Santana from butchering you."

Blaine raised his eyebrow in confusion.

"I mean General Lopez."

"Ah."

For a moment, neither spoke to the other. Blaine bit his lips and suddenly found the silver cup very interesting as he tried to ignore the fact that Kurt was still observing him quietly.

"I mean it, Devon," he said suddenly. "Thank you, on behalf of the citizen and myself."

Blaine's gaze met him and the words were stuck in his throat. These people were his enemies and yet Kurt's expression showed sincerity on every word he said. He nodded weakly and avoid his eyes as shame burdened his heart.

"General Evans said you just came back from the borderline injured?" Kurt asked him again after another moment of silence, his attention accidentally fell onto the burnt wound that Karofsky left for him.

"Yes, Sir." He could feel his palms was sweating above the blanket. He completely forgot about that, moreover tried to cover it. It was too late now.

"Stop calling me Sir, you make me feel old already," he said in disgust that almost made Blaine laughed. "Do you see the attackers? Their eyes color, at the very least? General Evans asked this and I would like to know too."

"No," he said, probably blurted it out too quickly because Kurt raised his eyebrow. He took a breath and continued, "No, Si- Kurt. They hit me until I blacked out so I didn't have the chance to even look at them."

"I see," Kurt said, unconsciously crossed his arms again and his brows furrowed, full of thoughts. "It's a shame that . . ."

"There you are!"

Both of them turned toward the sound and found a woman with big posture and motherly look stood outside the curtain.

"What's the matter, Mercedes?" Kurt frowned when he noticed the lady's present.

She wore a simple red gown and some parts of her black hair were braid elegantly. The lady seemed out of breath when she stepped inside. Ignoring Blaine completely, she walked straight to Kurt with a worried look on her face and they talked in low and quick tone.

Kurt's confusion slowly turned also to worry. When she finished talking, he turned to Blaine and excused themselves.

"My apologies, but I need to go now. Take a good rest; my men will contact you once you're cleared from the infirmary," he said with a forced smile.

Blaine did not know if that meant he was in trouble or he should feel honored by that so he just nodded silently. Kurt then strode out from there but the lady named Mercedes apparently still remain where she stood and she acted as if she just realised that Blaine was there all this time.

"Who are _you_? And what are you doing in here?" she retorted at him as if he was guilty for overhearing them.

"I'm a healthy soldier who needs more sleep, that is all," he retorted back with extra sarcasm on it.

She glared at him but did not say anything after that. On the same time another woman, but this time dressed like Dalton's healer, walked in with a tray in her hands. She bowed respectfully to Mercedes and the superior lady let her passed to approach Blaine.

"It seems that Kurt put special interest on you, and judging by the way you act in front of him just now, you must be a new guy," she said before walked toward the curtain and prepared to leave him, "He is _Prince_ Kurt from the house of Hummel. Now that you know who he is, treat him like one next time you meet him." With that, she left him.

Blaine blinked twice and his lips parted a bit after Mercedes left. The healer busying herself with the medicine that she brought and he could not care even less. His mind was still processing the words that hit him hard few seconds ago.

Kurt was the Prince; one of the members of McKinley's royal family.

He did it. He found the right person to go inside McKinley. All he had to do was to get closer to him and made Kurt brought him to meet the rest of his family, and then killed them all.

If this was supposed to be a good news for him, then why he felt tears spilled down profusely from his eyes?

* * *

I'll try to update as soon as I can. Thanks for reading and please kindly leave a review :)


	7. Chapter 6 - Anger and Sorrow

A/N : Another chapter update! Warning, this is going to be a bit angst! On the bright side, I brought in more New Direction characters in this one so I hope you like it.

Also, I make some change on the story plot in the Prolog. In it I mention that the people in the Second World have weakness which is located on their ring. Well, I decided to remove the ring part. I promise you that it did not change the whole story line on the previous chapters so don't worry about that :)

_fostinefoli_ : Don't you worry about that. Blaine is just confused, that's all! And you bet I, will certainly put more drama into it *evil grin* Thanks!

_ blacksoulclearmind _: duly noted! I really hope it does and thank you!

* * *

**Anger and Sorrow**

Apparently, it only took two days for Blaine to recover from his injuries. Luckily, there was no serious trauma, so by the second morning the healer cleared him out of the infirmary.

He dreaded that day since he knew who Kurt really was.

He put on his McKinley uniform half heartedly and not forgetting about slipping his leather pouch filled with the remaining Breyta beans. He was beyond relieved when he asked about it to the healer two days ago after Kurt left and said that she kept it for him. He thanked the young woman kindly and she bought the lie when he told her it was his medicine.

After she finished patching him up, Blaine poured all of the beans into his bed and counted it. As he suspected, the bean that he summoned before Kurt came was taken from his own stock. This morning he had eaten another one so he only got 27 beans left. He needed to be careful or he would run out of it before he could finish his duty.

To kill the royal family, including Kurt.

Kurt did not visit him again and Blaine was left with his own thoughts. Mercedes' words still haunted him, repeated itself like a broken gramophone.

_He is Prince Kurt from the house of Hummel._

Of all the people that could be their prince, numerous other strangers with vicious golden eyes that he used to hate so much, why Kurt? The man had never done anything wrong to him other than being born with the name of Hummel. How should he face him next time they met, to face the one that he would have to kill eventually? Would Kurt still give his sweet innocent smile to him if he knew that Blaine's eyes color was different from his?

He finished tying the pouch onto his belt when a soldier came and stopped outside the already parted curtain. He gave a brief salute and delivered the message.

"The prince demands your presence at the Noble Throne," he said briefly.

Blaine sighed and finally nodded. He should not forget what they had done to Wes and why he came here in the first place.

Blaine hated the burden inside his chest, but Kurt's fate had been sealed since he walked through that gate.

He was a Dalton. Kurt was a McKinley.

"Lead the way," Blaine said with imposed conviction.

* * *

_Two days ago_

Kurt walked in fast steps across the castle toward his father's chamber. Mercedes had told him that the King demanded his presence immediately, and so without a second thought he left Devon to go to his father instead.

Devon; that man was such an interesting soldier.

While their meeting was considered very brief, he left a deep impression on Kurt. Maybe it was because he had not known who he was, but it was nice to be treated as an equal sometimes. Being saluted by people who were much older than him was often really awkward for Kurt; it was the protocol so he could not do anything about it. Also Devon's eyes; a wise man from the kingdom once said that even though they had the same eye color, each characteristic was different from one and another depends on their past experience and personality. Devon's eyes were darker than most people he met and he could see anger and sadness in it. It was not shown in his face when they talked, though, so he had been hiding it for a long time.

Despite all of that, he saw no fear in it; the accident at the festival yesterday proved that Kurt was right. When he saw him run straight to the angry beast, his heart skipped a beat. He would ran after him if he did not have to escort Mrs. Marple to saver place, and when he went back to the square the beast had died and Devon lie motionless beside it. He was the one who yelled at Sam to leave the beast and instead ushered him to the infirmary. Kurt could not tell how relieved he was that time to know that he was only unconscious instead of being dead as he thought earlier.

At least five people were dead because of that beast. If Devon was not there, he did not how many more would have been killed by it.

For the mean time, he pushed aside Devon and the beast from his mind and focused on his dad alone. Worry had not faded away as he passed through garden to the South Wing. Yesterday's accident kept him away from his usual visit and now guilt and anxious crawled all over him.

He could only hope that his condition did not worsen.

After what seemed to be a mile of walk, Kurt finally arrived at the South Tower. From there, one could get the best view of the entire kingdom. It was also his mother's favorite place and she was the one who picked it as their chamber. When she passed away, the King refused to be replaced even after he found a new Queen that also became his step mother. He made an excuse that the location was hidden and remote enough for safety issues but Kurt knew what the real reason behind it was.

After skipping countless steps as he climbed the stone stairs and reached the top of the tower, he could see the guards blocking the only door in that short lane. However, when they see him they quickly moved to each side and gave salute to the Prince. Kurt nodded and he pushed the door opened.

"Kurt! Thank McKinley you're alright!" his father's weak and full of anxious immediately greeted him as he closed the door. Kurt looked up to see his father had sat at the edge of the huge bed and almost tried to stand up if Kurt did not stride across the room to stop him.

"No dad, you need to lie down! You're still not well," Kurt said as he urged his father to lie back again.

"What about . . ."

"Sam has been handling it. Now lay back or I'll make you, dad. I'm serious," he threatened him when he still insisted to leave the bed.

The King glared at him but his son also gave him the same look. After a moment of silent battle between them, his father finally sighed and swung his leg back onto the bed.

"You're just like your mother," he grunted while Kurt busied himself arranging the blanket.

"I take that as a compliment, thank you," a hint of sarcasm showed in his words but he could not suppress a smile. However, the smile soon disappeared when he noticed his father's short breath and sweat drenched his night gown.

"How do you feel, Dad?" he asked in low voice as he finished tucking in the blanket around him and now sitting on the edge of the bed.

The King smiled tiredly. "Like a King who could not do anything for his people."

"Don't, Dad," Kurt said immediately. "Don't torture yourself. You're no God and most definitely _not_ responsible for the_ entire_ calamity that occurred in McKinley."

His dad did not respond to that but from his look, Kurt knew that it still bothered him.

"Had you drunk your medicine?" Kurt tried to change the subject by checking on the table on his father's bed side to find all of his medicines were untouched.

"Dad," he sighed tiredly. "You suppose to . . . "

"Kurt, I don't have much time left."

Kurt's hand stopped mid air before he could reach for the silver cup.

"I'm sorry, kiddo, but . . ."

"I don't want to hear it, Dad," Kurt said with shaken voice without looking at him; still tried busying himself with the medicines.

"Kurt . . ."

Kurt suddenly slammed his hand onto the table and made things fell to the floor, but he could not care even less. All of the pressure that moment and the memories of his mother's last day rushed in and tears started to trickle down his face.

"Sorry. I just . . . I don't want to hear you giving up, Dad," he said in frustration, head bowed down and still did not have the courage to look at his dad. "Don't . . . Don't let them win now."

His whole body shook as he tried to hold his tears, but failed miserably in the end. His father's heart was indeed weakening each year but when few Dalton soldier managed to sneak into McKinley and almost killed Kurt, his condition decreased drastically. His Guardian, Adam, was one of the victims to lose their life before they were able to catch and execute few while the rest of them flew away cowardly. The guilt that ate him finally had its impact on his heart.

A hand landed on Kurt's back and rubbed it gently. "Kurt, look at me."

It was not an order nor plea, but a simple request from a father to his son.

Kurt slowly turned his head and finally met his father's eyes.

He broke down.

The King let the Prince wept on his chest as he continued to give him gentle rubs on his shaking back. Kurt grabbed his other hand and held it strongly as if it could slipped away if he did not. His new nightmare after his mom passed away would soon became a reality and he just could not accept it.

"Do you remember the big war between McKinley and Dalton few years ago?" his father suddenly asked him.

Kurt raised his messy face and looked confused. "Yes."

"Did I pulled us back even if it looked as if we were losing?"

" . . . No," he whispered.

"Or when your mom passed away; did I mourn all day long and abandoned our people?"

"No." Another tear dropped from Kurt's eyes when he realised where this was heading to.

"I never give up, Kurt," his father said in low voice. He put his hand to the back of Kurt's neck and gave him warm squeeze. "I'm simply accepting the fact."

Kurt bit his lips to prevent himself from crying again.

"Nothing last forever, kid, and that's okay. What's not okay is when you keep looking at the past and forget about the future. Now," his voice turned a bit harsh as Kurt saw tears also brimming from his eyes, "promise me that when it happens, you will move on like I did before and be a better leader for McKinley, okay?"

The words were like a gentle punch to his chest. He opened his mouth but no words came out from it.

"Your word, Kurt," his father pushed him again, this time with plea on his voice.

"I . . . I will, Dad," he was finally able to choke it out, along with another stream of tears following it.

His father opened his arms to embrace him and for a moment both of them said nothing, both were trying to memorize the precious moment just for themself.

Kurt promised to himself that he would tried his best to hold onto his words, but there was only one problem . . .

"I can't possibly replace you as a King," Kurt said suddenly.

The King frowned. "Why?"

"I'm gay," he stated it as a matter of fact.

Now his father looked confused. "I don't think there's a law that only straight person could become one."

"I mean I won't have an heir by birth," he sighed, but then looked at him with horror on his eyes. "You don't expect me to . . . ?"

"Wha- oh," a sudden realization crossed in his father's eyes and made him blushed. "No no, of course not. If you don't feel comfortable with it . . ."

"Comfortable? Can you picture me with a _woman_?"

They were looking at each other for three seconds before broke into loud laughter.

"Exactly," Kurt grinned as he wiped the tears away.

"Well, if it isn't you then who is it?"

"I always think Finn would make a good leader some day," he smiled a little on that thought.

"Finn?" His dad sounded unsure. "I'm not sure about that to be honest."

"Don't worry," Kurt waved off the doubt. "It's only a matter of time before he proposes Rachel; she also would be a great Queen for him and McKinley. Besides, I'm not going anywhere. I won't let him screw up on my watch," he added a dangerous glare to his left as if he could see his step brother there.

"Are you sure about this, Kurt? The throne is your right to claim and if the next heir is your main concern, you can just appoint someone else in the future," his father said, still looked concern about his decision.

Kurt smiled truthfully and said, "I know. I just feel like I don't qualify enough to do it and I don't want to jeopardize the kingdom."

The King sighed but in the end he nodded. "Well, you're wrong about that; but whatever your decision is," he grabbed his hand and squeezed it, "I will always be proud on you."

Kurt hugged him once more and gave a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you more, kiddo."

* * *

Blaine arrived at the Noble Throne, which apparently was similar to what Dalton had as their Great Hall. The room was huge and all the ornaments and flags with McKinley emblem were dominated with gold and a bit of silver. Windows on the right side of the hall from where he came from were showing the garden and fountain in the middle of it. And on the opposite side from the door lie four majestic thrones and Kurt was leaning casually on the left one. His face brightened when he saw him coming.

"Devon! We're glad that you managed to heal quickly," Kurt approached him with the same warm smile that he gave him at the festival and infirmary.

As the soldier who guided him left the hall, he realised that they were indeed not alone. Other than Kurt, there were another five soldiers in the Noble Throne. He recognized Sam Evans, who stood not too far from the throne and also gave him a big smile when he saw him, and Santana Lopez who stood near one of the window with crossed arms and looked as if she was bored.

The other three then must be also the Generals of McKinley. A big guy with strange haircut and folded sleeves stood not too far from Santana. Another guy as bulky as the first one stood right beside Kurt earlier with a woman with long dark hair on his side.

The man with strange hair snorted as Blaine walked into everyone's attention. "This is a joke, right?"

"I imagine him to be . . . taller," the woman he did not know the name yet frowned in disappointment.

"Told you," Santana murmured loud enough that everyone could hear her.

Blaine gritted his teeth at the remark and kept his gaze forward while Kurt threw deadly glares to those two. When he reached exactly a meter from where Kurt stood, Blaine stopped walking and gave him a salute.

_He was a prince. Remember the protocol._

Now it was Kurt's turn to frown. "What are you doing?"

Blaine arched an eyebrow and lowered his hand. "Giving a salute to you, _my Lord_." He gave extra pressure when he said his title to tell him that he already knew who he was.

"I take it back. I _like_ this guy," the first man to speak grinned widely at his words.

"I know, right?" Sam said enthusiastically in agreement.

Again, Kurt ignored his generals and instead frowned deeper at Blaine. "Who told you?"

"Lady Mercedes."

Kurt sighed tiredly. "I knew it. I shouldn't leave you two alone that time." His gaze then turned fierce as he continued to speak to him. "That 'Sir' and 'My Lord' thing is still apply for you, though. As a _Prince_, I won't hesitate to send you back to patrol group if you call me with that one more time."

Blaine couldn't suppress a grin and let himself relaxed a bit. What an interesting man he was, he thought.

"Now that everyone greeted each other, can we please get into the business? I still had a bunch of new men to train and it will take a whole day," Santana retorted impatiently.

"Forgive my Generals, sometimes they can be a bit childish," Kurt muttered to Blaine only.

"I heard that!"

"Okay!" he yelled back at the woman before turning back to Blaine. "I'd like you to be my Guardian."

Blaine blinked twice, trying to process the word but failed. "Your _what_?"

"Guardian," Kurt explained it to him patiently. "You're to be released from your daily tasks at your current rank and will be given a new one as my guardian."

"Babysitting, in other word," Santana added with a big grin on her face.

"I'm pretty impressed on what you did at the festival and I think you're more than qualified to be my new Guardian," Kurt continued, ignoring Santana completely.

A Guardian. If he accepted the position, he could be around Kurt as much as he liked to. Killing Kurt was not an impossible task anymore. He could bring few Generals down on the process, too.

However, when his eyes met with Kurt's once again, all the thoughts melt away from his mind and replaced with guilt and shame. Since when did he start to think like a cold blooded murderer? Did he really want to add more blood on his already red hands?

_He was a McKinley, Blaine!_ He yelled the words to himself. _He was an enemy, nothing more._

_He was also a human being!_

"Forget it, Kurt," the man with strange hair said sharply and brought him back to reality. "He looks scared already."

"No," Blaine stuttered with his words, still trying to make up his mind. "I'm not . . ."

"This is not an easy task, Devon," said the man beside the throne for the first time. "The previous Guardian died when Dalton attacked us and we need you to commit to the kingdom as much as him."

Blaine's head snapped at that. "Dalton attacked McKinley?"

The man frowned. "Where have you been? It was chaos in here few days ago!"

_Why were they kept telling lies? They were the one who attacked us!_ Suddenly, Blaine's head felt as if a stick protruded from it.

"You're just overrated, Finn," the man with strange hair said, rolling his eyes. "They only sent a bunch of morons as usual. It was Adam's fault to get killed in the first place. I even managed to fry their leader so it's really not that much of them."

Fry.

Wes' injury.

Blaine's palms turned into tight fists. "You are the one who burned their leader alive?"

The man chuckled proudly. "Now you remember. Too bad he managed to escape; I was about to make a stronger warning for those Daltons but I guess that'll do."

With that, the conflict that he had inside his head was over. No one could hurt his friends, especially Dalton's enemies.

"I accept the position," Blaine said to Kurt, without any hesitation in his voice this time.

Kurt, however, did not seem happy with his answer and instead looked worried. "Are you okay? I'm not going to force you if . . . "

"I said I accept it," he snapped impatiently. A small part of him regretted it immediately when he saw Kurt looked hurt after that. "Sorry, I do want to accept it," he added, gentler this time.

"O-okay then, great" he said with a nervous smile, still look unsure of him but did not say anything.

"Well, that's a start," the woman behind Kurt shrugged. "Now, if you can defeat one of us then the position is yours."

"Do we really need to do this now, Rachel? He was just out of the infirmary this morning," Kurt turned to her with a hint of pleading on his voice but Blaine quickly took over the conversation.

"It's fine, Kurt. I can do it."

"Great. Pick your opponent; I'll choose Evans if I were you. You'll secure that position in no time."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Trouty Mouth."

Blaine took less than a second to decide who would be his opponent. He turned to the man with strange hair and glared viciously at him. "You, _Sir_."

Blaine ignored Kurt's sharp gasp and instead focused on the General whose lips formed a wide grin.

"Either you're stupid or really brave; you got balls for challenging me, kid."

"You may want to choose another candidate, Kurt," Santana suggested as the man stepped forward to the middle of the hall.

He did not pay attention to Kurt when he talked to him in alerting tone before stepping back to give them some space. Blaine really did not care who he was or what he was capable of. He only thought of Wes and that was more than enough to beat this snobbish General.

Without another word, Blaine pulled out his McKinley sword and ran straight to his opponent.

* * *

Thanks for reading and don't forget to review! I'll try to update as soon as I can.


	8. Chapter 7 - Regret and Resolute

A/N : Finally an update! So sorry for you who have been waited for this chapter, I had a long test week coming and was barely able to write. I really hope you like this chapter, it's my favorite so far. I'll try my best to update faster now that my schedule is less crowded, please give review so I can be motivated to write even quicker!

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee, but the plot of this story is mine

* * *

**Regret and Resolute**

A loud clang erupted from both swords as Blaine's sword met with Puck's midair but he did not stop there; Blaine changed the blade's direction and aiming for Puck's leg but the General noticed his intention and simply lifted his leg and step on it when it crossed under him. While Blaine was trying to maintain his sword back, the other leg flew toward his face. He swiftly dodged it in the last minute and using the opening to aim a kick toward Puck's leg above his sword. The General jumped back few meters to avoid it with an amused expression on his face.

Blaine knew Puck was merely testing him. He did not even try to attack him since from the start. Blaine had enough of being underestimated by people like him. With anger boiled inside his head, he ran as fast as he could toward the passive General for the second time in hope that he could change that soon enough.

This time, he slided and aimed straight to Puck's legs; his past experience with his Generals taught him that big guys like Puck had to be silenced from their movement first. Puck seemed taken aback on his weird decision but he quickly shifted his position to his left, also ran to Blaine's direction and brought down his sword to welcome him instead.

Blaine slammed his sword onto the cold floor to his right and used the force to flip himself on his stomach and with that was in the same line with running Puck. He then put both hands and his left foot firmly on the ground as a break then threw a backward kick with his other leg.

_Crack!_

His foot met with the target and in the next second he could hear Puck growled in pain from his back. Blaine used the momentum to move away from the General and retrieved his sword back. Few gasps were heard from the audience and when Blaine decided to see his work, a cold satisfy smirk rose to his face.

Puck clutched onto his face as blood flew freely from the obvious broken nose. While he was spatting blood and cursing loudly, Blaine heard Santana's laugh from the other side of the hall and when he shifted his gaze he caught Kurt's gleeful smile toward his direction.

"You'll pay for that, kid!" Puck spat after wiping the remaining blood and made his face smeared with red.

"Make me," Blaine retorted back before lunged another attack on him.

To him, this was no longer about becoming a Guardian; not since he knew what the General had done to his friend. Guardian or not, he would _not_ lose to this guy!

This time, Puck used his sword to actually fight him back. Their sword once again met with full force and Blaine stumbled a bit for not having the same power as the now-very-angry General. Puck swing the blade to his head several times and Blaine had to dodge without making contact at all or else he would be in big trouble. He knew that if Puck could hit him, he would do it.

Attack. Stab. Block. Block. Dodge. Attack. The cycle repeated itself for Blaine did not know how long it had been since they started. Puck's strength was amazing if not frightening to him; if it was possible, his attack were getting more vicious with the time passed between their dance.

Blaine's sword arm began to cramp as he used it several times to block Puck's sword and not to mention it had not fully healed just yet from his fight with Karofsky. Beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried to mask his pain from Puck. The General himself was no better than him. He was soaked in sweat looked completely exhausted from trying to compete with Blaine's agility.

It was a matter of time before someone broke down from the pressure, and it would not be Blaine.

The sudden stab of pain on his arm made Blaine stumbled a bit when dodging Puck's blade toward his chest and he accidentally bumped the same arm to Puck's side. The contact grazed the wound with his clothes badly and Blaine gasped in pain before he could stop it.

"Bingo," Puck muttered breathlessly only to be heard by the two of them before he gave more energy to his attacks and aimed it to his injured arm. Blaine cursed and he tried to keep up with him but Puck gave him no room to fight back, now that he kept his right arm in full defense mode. He need to do something quick before his arm gave up.

As Puck tried hit his sword again, Blaine lifted it up to avoid it and at the same time went to his left to get to Puck's defenseless back. He thought he could make it but then a big hand suddenly grab Blaine's right wrist and before he could do anything to shake it off Puck twisted it above Blaine's head. Blaine tried to fight back in panic but the hand was only tightening his grip and bend it more to earn a scream from the smaller man.

"See? I told you to pick Sam instead." Blaine heard Santana's voice from across the room; he could not tell exactly because his eyes were closed to block not only the pain from his wound but also the fact that his arm was being twisted to its rotation limit.

Puck held him tight and gave him no room to move or moreover escaped. Everybody knew that Blaine had just lost the fight.

"Let him go, Puck." Kurt's disappointment somehow felt like an arrow to Blaine's chest.

"No," There was no more trace of joking around in Puck's voice. He sounded dead serious now and still refused to let Blaine go. When Blaine took a glance through his shoulder, Puck's cold eyes met him. "Are you ready to forfeit?"

Blaine grunted in pain as he slipped his other hand onto his vest and mouthed _Knife_, making a small weight appeared on his hand. Without a second thought, he plunged the small knife to Puck's calf and twisted the handle.

He hoped this answered Puck's question about giving up.

Puck screamed in pain and for a second his grip loosened a bit, but when Blaine tried to retrieve his arm, it was yanked back to its place by the General.

"Puck_, don't!_"

Blaine heard someone yelled but his eyes was plastered to Puck. The look in the bigger soldier confirmed Blaine's fear but before he could do anything to prevent it, Puck tightened his grip and twisted his arm completely off the socket.

* * *

Kurt's voice was gone as soon as horrifying scream came from his Guardian candidate.

The prince froze on his feet when Blaine fell on the floor and curled to fetal position as he was craddling his dislocated shoulder to his chest. Kurt's gaze shifted to his General who was just pulled out the knife off his calf and swore loudly but for the first time he could not care any less for Noah Puckerman.

This audition was not supposed to end up like this. Adam, his first Guardian, did not even have to pass a test like Blaine did. It was Finn's fault to doubt his judgment but he just knew it.

Blaine was clearly the one for the position.

It did not matter anymore. Win or lose, Kurt would not let him got hurt more than he already got. That soldier was his responsibility. Kurt was the one who brought him into this mess not even a day after he got released from the infirmary.

His legs slowly brought him toward the fallen soldier. This had to stop now.

"_Don't!_"

The whole audience and especially Kurt were taken aback by a strained whimper came from Blaine's mouth.

To his own horror he saw Blaine, who was still cradling his arm, was slowly trying to get up on his feet. The entire audience, including Puck, stood in complete silence with mouth agape as they watched Blaine stumbled several times and yet did not stop trying, not even once. Even from where he stood, he could see tears strike his face and his whole frame shook like a leaf but still he had not given up just yet.

Kurt really wanted to scream at him. To stop him from rising up. To made him gave up upon this stupid match already. Yet, no voice came out of his mouth. Something inside Blaine's eyes stopped him, that this was more than just a sparring match for him.

So he waited. Waited and prayed that Blaine knew what he was doing.

* * *

"You can't continue like that, soldier."

Puck's low voice invaded Blaine's cloudy mind just when he finally managed to rise on kneeling position. Through his blurry vision clouded by pain, he scanned through the audience and hated what he saw.

Pity and doubt. Oh, how he felt really familiar with them.

_Thirteen years old Blaine was gasping for air on the ground after Hunter, his fifteen years old mean cousin, beat him merciless and knocked his air out after he kicked his chest hard. While he was trying to get up, another kick landed this time on his face with a sickening crack and produced a whimper from the smaller kid._

_"Hunter, that's enough!" Blaine could hear Wes shouted from the side of the kingdom's square; he was too busy dealing with the pain that erupted from his broken nose to care about Wes and David who was watching at this point._

_Suddenly, he saw the same boot came down toward his stomach and Blaine screamed in complete agony before coughing hard and tasted blood inside his mouth._

_"I for-forfeit," Blaine gasped the words between his painful breath. He could felt the ground tremor a bit but it stopped before the one who he assumed was trying to approach him stopped._

_"Stop me and I swear you will regret being his friend," Hunter said above him._

_"He has forfeited the fight!"_

_"Does he?"_

_Another kick sent to his stomach and Blaine could barely know his surroundings. He did not know if he blacked out or not but when his body was turned over by a boot so he lay on his back, the first thing he saw was still Hunter who was kneeling beside him._

_"I should be the one who meant to be a King someday," Hunter hissed slowly but clearly to him. "Not you. You're too weak for that throne."_

"I can still fight you," he choked through his gritted teeth as he was trying to use his sword as support. The movement, no matter how small it was, never failed to send flames to his arm socket. For now he only tried to limit the movement by stuck it to his chest.

"Don't be . . ."

"What? Stupid?" Blaine cut Puck before he could finish with a tone so sharp one could bleed from it. With one last push, Blaine was finally able to plant his feet onto the cold floor and stood shakily with his left arm still leaned heavily to his sword.

"You can break every last one of my bone," Blaine said with a persistent low voice, "Beat me to the ground repeatedly, but you will never hear me giving up! _Do you hear me?!_"

The hall was dead silent as his voice raised. "I said the word too many times in the past and they brought me nowhere." His voice was shaking badly but he did not care. "So go ahead, don't hold your back because you won't hear the word from me."

The only sound that could be heard was Blaine's harsh breath. Nobody even moved a muscle after he finished, not even Santana. Puck narrowed his gaze but still said nothing.

So Blaine just waited as the time ticked away.

Out of sudden, Puck, with his sword on his right hand and the knife Blaine stabbed him with earlier on the other, dashed to him in full speed. Blaine could barely dodge it and he stumbled back a bit but the General seemed to not holding back.

Losing his right arm was a big disadvantage for Blaine; not only he lost his sword arm but also could not protect his right side. Puck knew this and used it to land several deep cut on his right side of his body. His vision was worsened until soon enough it caused him a misstep; Puck knocked his sword off his hand and kicked hard on his head.

Blaine groaned and blinked twice to clear his vision. He saw Puck towering him with both blades on his hands, ready to land another attack.

"Forfeit," Puck said it with a stern voice.

Blaine's brain was screaming the same word but a different one came out of his lips. "Never."

The General switched his approach by putting a firm pressure on Blaine's injured arm with his boot. "Forfeit."

A drop of tear fell from his eyes as the pain was getting unbearable. His other hand clawed the boot to make it away but it was useless. Without moving his foot from Blaine, Puck knelt beside him and placed the knife to his chest.

"I won't warn you again," he said it again and Blaine knew he was not bluffing.

His voice might sound weak, his teeth may grit to hold back more tears from falling, but Blaine kept his word by not pulling it back. "Don't."

As Puck raised the knife above him, memories of his friends flashed in his eyes. He always imagined himself to die inside the castle of Dalton, surrounded by them and, if he could find The One, his husband and son; but apparently Faith had said differently. He had failed Wes and Dalton, so this was probably the best for him, to die in the hand of the enemy.

"PUCK!"

At least he kept his promise, and with that he shall smile to Death's face.

Blaine could sense someone was trying to stop their friend but he ignored it. He simply closed his eyes at the same time as Puck brought down the knife and hoped that he would make it quick.

Something hard landed on his chest and Blaine's body instantly tensed and expected for the pain to come soon.

He felt nothing.

His eyes immediately shot open and gasped for breath, just realized how hard his heart beating. He caught Puck still knelt beside him, but this time with a smirk on his face. His gazed then shifted to his chest and found the handle of the knife was the one that poked his rib.

"I forfeit," Puck suddenly declared it out loud.

"Wha –" Blaine's clouded brain was still trying to process the words but it was gone when Puck removed his leg from his arm and earned another gasp from him. More sound erupted from different direction but he could not tell who or what it said.

"Congratulation, kid. Now let's set that arm back to its place before it swelled," he said with a concern smile on his face. He carefully slipped his arm under Blaine's back and slowly pulled him to sitting position.

"I don't . . . understand," Blaine murmured near his ear. "Why . . ."

"Well, even if you lose the fight, you still won everybody's respect; including mine. That's much bigger than just winning a lousy match, don't you agree?"

Blaine did not realize more tears flowing through his eyes after hearing that, but he could not suppress a smile forming on his lips.

Kurt suddenly appeared next to them and Puck shifted position with him so now he was the one who supporting Blaine. Kurt let his head rested on his shoulder as his hand snaked under his arms, hugging him tightly so he would not fall for Blaine knew it would happen if Kurt did not do it.

"Ssh, it's over. It's over," Kurt whispered the litany on his ear. He probably saw him crying and mistakenly took it as a sign of relieve; nobody knew the truth except Blaine and Puck.

"On the count of three," Puck warned him as he placed both hands on his right arm. "_Three._"

Blaine remembered screaming before welcoming the peaceful blackness.

* * *

Kurt was grateful he held Blaine tightly because soon after Puck set the arm back to its socket, the man blacked out almost immediately and slumped on him like a dead weight. He leaned onto Blaine and let himself processed what just happened.

"You really think I would've killed him?" Puck's voice broke into his thought.

Kurt followed Puck's gaze and fell onto now melting ice dagger that he dropped earlier.

"You dislocated his arm completely. What do _you_ think?" Kurt frowned at his General.

"He stabbed me!"

"You sounded like you've never been stabbed before."

"You should try sometime."

"Over their dead bodies," Kurt said, pointed at the rest of his Generals.

"_Hey!_" Sam shouted across the room as the rest of them laughed at that.

"I must admit, that guy was something," Santana finally spoke.

"His fighting skill isn't bad either, although I would say a bit different with the one they teach at the academy," Rachel voiced her thoughts with her eyebrows furrowed.

"You're just jealous, Rachel. He's definitely better than you."

"Shut up, Puck!"

"So can we make it official already?" Kurt cut their fight and looked at Finn almost with a plea on his eyes.

Finn rolled his eyes as if he thought Kurt was being overrated about Devon. Kurt really wanted to punch his brother if he could. "Yes, Kurt. He can be your new Guardian."

"A good one," Puck added. "I know you pick the right man this time."

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Please let me know what do you think by giving a review!


	9. Chapter 8 - Discovery and Cognition

A/N : Terribly sorry for another slow update! I want to say thank you for those who keep reading this; all the followers, fave, and reviews are meant a lot to me, so thanks again! I hope you like this chapter and forgive me :(

Disclaimer : I do not own Glee, but the plot of this story is mine!

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**Discovery and Cognition**

Familiar pain cleared Blaine's mind from the fog of unconsciousness and it was like dejavu all over again to wake up with a ceiling as his first view.

The ceiling looked different from the first time, though. In fact, when Blaine shifted his gaze to his surrounding, he was not in the infirmary.

Blaine's sense switched to alert mode and jumped out of the bed, but quickly regret it when pain shot through his arm and sent him back to the bed. His right arm felt much worse than last time. He took a glance at it to find thick bandage already wrapped tightly around it.

Blaine threw out the blanket that covered him and this time slowly tried to sit down. He was not wearing anything but the trousers he stole at the forest, the rest of his uniform were not anywhere near his sight.

At the same time, Blaine used the chance to observe his new surroundings. He seemed to be in a private chamber; a luxurious one. The room was quite big and the bed was not as small as the one in the infirmary, the sheet and blanket was also made with good quality fabric. There was a large window on his right side of the room covered with yellow canary curtain and a large wooden wardrobe on his left. The light from the outside was blocked by the curtain and made as if it was glowed like gold.

He took another glance to his arm. It still hurt a lot but at least it had returned back to its place thanks to Puck.

Puck. His chest felt oddly warm when he recalled his last memory with the General before passing out. By Dalton, it was been awhile since he was swelled with such warmth like this. To be himself without the stupid title and earned the respect he was craving for was the best thing he had so far. It was like a fresh start to build his new image and . . .

Blaine abruptly stopped, slowly digesting what he actually said. He let his head fell onto his opened palm and let his emotion slipping away, soon replaced with sudden guilt.

_What are you doing, Blaine? They are your enemies! Puck was the one who attacked your best friend!_

"_Mirror_." In a second, a small silver mirror appeared on his right palm and he brought it toward his own face. He sighed when he saw his eyes had returned to their original color.

_McKinley is your enemy. You are on a mission._

"_Breyta bean._" He reluctantly threw the small bean onto his mouth and looked at the new color for a bit too long.

For the first time, Blaine actually got the chance to observe it. His was not bright like Kurt's; on the contrary he owned the darkest color compared to people he met there so far. He even beat Puck's greyish gold and Santana's almost-chopper gold. He did not know if he made it up inside his head, but he could actually see red mixed with the gold and as the result making it extremely dark.

_Even Breyta beans cannot hide your true color_, Blaine thought bitterly.

A low creak coming from the door's direction startled Blaine out of his mind. He slipped the mirror under the blanket just in time before the door opened and showed Kurt's head peaked in from the gap.

When their eyes met, Kurt's face lit up and then presumed to enter the room. "You're awake."

Blaine gave him a small smile. "Hey . . ." then he remembered Kurt's title and quickly changed the tone. "I mean, Pr . . ."

"What did I say about that kind of attitude?" Kurt stopped right beside Blaine and cut him with such a deadly glare that made Blaine could not resist smiling at him.

"Right. Sorry."

"Better." He casually sat on the edge of the bed and gave him a serious look. "I am _relieved_ that you don't have to go back to the infirmary. You have my deepest apology for dragging you in such a _stupid _situation, my brother was the one who responsible for this but I . . ."

Blaine let him rambling for a while and quietly observed some details on Kurt's appearance that he missed on their first encounter. His brown hair was comb neatly and not a single hair was out of its place. The uniform that he wore today combine the color of dark gold and black perfectly that made him not only looked dashing but also added enough charisma on his profile. His hand was like dancing in the air as Kurt continued talking; the skin looked as beautiful and as fragile as porcelain.

What caught his attention was the black bag under Kurt's eyes. He hid it well but Blaine could tell that the prince looked exhausted for some reason. What could possibly bother him?

All of sudden, the train of thoughts that Blaine had earlier hit him. _Why do I care so much about him? He's my enemy, for Dalton sake!_

When he looked at Kurt's direction, he had stop talking and now giving him a strange look.

"Are you still in pain? I can call the healer to . . ."

"No, no, I'm fine. Really," he quickly assured him with a forced smile. Kurt seemed not buying it but in the end he dropped the subject off.

"Well, I was going to check if you're well enough to accompany me to the city but you're obviously still need time to recover so . . ."

"Again?" Blaine asked before he could stop himself. He thought he saw a tired smile on Kurt's face before it was replaced by the false one.

"I need to buy more bread for the King. You know, from the market where we met the first time." Both of them smiled when the memory came back. "I also need fresh air to clear my head."

_Bread for the King. With this, I probably could meet him in person. _The idea made Blaine hated himself but it had to be done.

"I think my arm will be just fine. That is, if there's no Bisou like the last time," he joked and being bitter at the same time.

"I can assure you that or I will kill the owner and my generals myself," Kurt mumbled the last sentence under his breath heatedly but when their eyes met laughter explodes from both of them.

"I will be waiting outside. You can find your new uniform on the wardrobe; this is your new chamber, anyway," Kurt said as he stood up.

"My room?"

"You're now my Guardian, with that you must always be on my side. Mine is not too far from yours. I'll show you later," Kurt said casually before stepping out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Blaine stared at the door for a minute before slowly tried to get up from the bed. For once, he was glad he was in pain because it distracted him from getting more crazy ideas involving Kurt and the new information he gave to him just now.

* * *

"I thought you say we only get some bread?" Blaine asked in disbelief after they left clothing store with two boxes of black leather boots and two pairs of black and dark brown leather gloves to match with it on their arm.

"We are, but I just can't leave these beautiful things sitting on the display waiting for the dust, can I?" Kurt whined as if he was defending his daughter's favorite expensive dress.

Blaine could only chuckle and said, "I supposed you can't." Blaine kept his amazement to himself, knowing that Kurt had good taste in fashion. He shared the same interest as his back in Dalton, but not too obsessed like Kurt did.

After their 'little' shopping to another two shops and both had their hands full (Kurt carried the most since he insisted on it and Blaine did not complain because his arm was, to be honest, still hurt as hell), they were finally back at the main square to visit Mrs. Marple's bakery stand. There were not as many people as the last time they were there, and no sign of Bisou, thank Dalton. The old lady's face quickly lit up when she spot them among the crowd.

"Kurt! Always good to see you, Sir." She then turned to Blaine and recognition showed on her eyes. "And you, you're the man who defeat the beast the other day, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, face blushing red.

"I knew it! I'd like to thank you for what you did, young man. What could possibly happen to this square if you didn't stop it! Oh, it was horrible . . ."

"It's my job, Mrs. Marple, and please called me Devon," Blaine said, his face was getting redder in awkwardness. From the corner of his eyes he could see Kurt held back his laughter. She shook her head a bit, remembering the recent incident before putting a smile on her face for them.

"Same as usual, Kurt? Unsalted bread?" Even before she finished, she had reached for a paper bag from under the stand table.

"Yes, please. Oh, and two of that cake, please separate it from the bread" Kurt pointed at the creamy cake that Blaine bought a couple of days ago. Mrs. Marple put all of them in one big bag and three of them chatted for a while before Kurt made excuse for them since they still had few things to buy.

They wandered around the market and civilian area until noon. It turned out that Kurt was easy to talk with. The conversation flew naturally that kept making Blaine forgetting the pain on his arm. Kurt brought up his fashion choice and ended up getting a fierce discussion with Blaine about his vision of fashion.

Blaine also learned that Kurt had two different kinds of people who knew him aside the black cloak that they were wearing to hide their identity during the short walk. Few of the sellers greeted them warmly and sometimes gave one or few of their goods for free or with big discount, or if they were just passing by they would chatted with them for a minute or simply exchanged smile and nod in respect.

Then there were those who bumped Kurt as hard as they could and gave him a mix between hatred and disgust. Before Blaine could do anything toward them, Kurt would stop him and simply reached for his fallen stuff from the ground with total acceptance and sorrow clearly written on his face.

"It's okay, Devon. Your duty is protecting me from the enemy, not from those people," Kurt held Blaine healthy arm to stop him from chasing down the skinny guy that slammed Kurt the second times. The guy disappeared among the crowd like a ghost and Blaine sighed in frustration.

"That is _not_ okay, Kurt! You are their Prince; they can't just treat you like a piece of trash!" Blaine hissed to be heard by Kurt only as he helped him getting back the items from the ground.

"You and I are both in the same boat in this, so I think you know better to not getting involve with those narrow minded people," he smiled sadly as he cleaned the boxes from dirt.

"What do you- _Oh_." Sudden realizations lit inside his head and made all of this make sense to him. "You are, I mean . . . And you know I . . "

"Of course," he laughed a bit. "Not saying that you look obvious; I guess I got talent in that area," he quickly added.

"Wow," was all he could say. All of sudden, his respect toward the prince doubled; being openly gay was not easy at all and especially if you were from a royal family. Blaine went through hell back in Dalton and he probably understood this more than Kurt thought he would.

Kurt chuckled on his amazement toward this new news. "I though you already knew this, since you're in the army."

Blaine coughed a bit on hearing that. "I hate rumors. They often led to false assumption," he said with a false apologetic expression.

"Well, now you know the truth," he smiled. "It's lunch time already. Let's go rest on the fountain and eat the cake before we head home."

The crowd was getting lesser as the sun kept rising. Blaine felt grateful upon this since his injured arm was getting bumped by people who passed him. He managed to hide it from Kurt until the prince heard him groaned after a child accidentally slammed Blaine hard right on his arm. Kurt then led them to a short cut that almost no one passed on that small alley and for a while Blaine could walk in less amount of pain.

They almost went out of that alley when a man dressed in ragged clothes walked toward them. His steps were unsteady and so was his eyes; drunk, then. Blaine's eyes met Kurt's and they silently agreed to quietly tried passing this guy. What they did not expect was when he spotted them, he pulled out a dagger from his back and screamed like a mad man.

"Money, give me money!" he shouted, voice slurred and hand waved the dagger threateningly.

"Sir, we are members of the kingdom troops. So, if you kindly . . ."

"Soldier!" he spat in hatred. Blaine pulled Kurt back so he was on the front now while the drunken man kept blabbering in angry tone and slowly approaching them. "Executioners! Hummel's lapdogs! You think you can do whatever you want, eh? Make the law for your own good. Steal people's sweat and giving no money for the poor. You thief!"

"Get back!" Blaine had dropped the boxes onto the ground and now pulling the sword out from his belt. He was not that good at using weapon other than throwing knives with his left hand but he got no choice. He was few meters away from them now.

Without a warning, the drunken man screamed and lunged toward Blaine. The dagger flew toward his middle but Blaine managed to avoid it and slammed his shoulder with his sword's handle. He staggered to his right and suddenly Blaine's right arm was pulled by him to hold his fall. He instantly screamed in pain. Blinded by pain, he brought his sword to the man's middle and with a shock yelp he crashed to the ground and remained, motionless in a pool of blood.

"Devon!"

Blaine did not realize Kurt was already on his side as he was in kneeling position and his forehead leaned onto the sword as a lever. Headache started to creep on his head as the sensation of pain would not cease away.

_Were everyone aimed at my right arm intentionally?!_

He felt his cloak was being removed by Kurt. He turned around to look at him right when he placed his palm above where the bandage was.

"What are you . . ."

Before Blaine could finish, a sudden cold sensation came out from Kurt's palm and slowly numbing his pain. Blaine let a sigh of relieve came out of his lips as Kurt let his power flown onto him.

"Cool power," Blaine murmured; his tired gaze met Kurt's.

"It's cool indeed. Puns intended," Kurt let out a small smirk before it disappeared almost as quick. "I'm so . . ."

"Not your fault. It's also my job, isn't it?"

Kurt said nothing but Blaine could still see guilt on him. He reached for his hand to stop what he was doing and slowly tested his injured arm.

"Thank you, Prince Kurt," he said the title teasingly and Kurt immediately bit the bait.

"Stop it."

"Then stop blaming yourself. Deal?"

Kurt rolled his eyes but a smile appeared on his lips and that was more than enough for Blaine.

* * *

After a slow walk to the castle, they were finally back late noon. Kurt asked the maid to bring the boxes to his chamber and giving Blaine both of the cakes.

"Consider it as an apology and gratitude for the beast incident, and the recent one," he added, living no room for him to resist it.

They stopped at the door that led to the garden with Kurt clutching on the last bag filled with unsalted bread. "I suggest you take a rest. If you're feeling better tomorrow, you can join me watching the Generals spar."

Blaine waited for the request to accompany him meeting the King but it never came up, so he just nodded and watched Kurt disappeared behind the door.

_No rush, Blaine. It could wait._

The thoughts gave him a small amount of relieve as he dragged himself back to his room with the bag of cakes on his healthy hand.

* * *

I can't promise a quick update since there's a lot of things I should work on right now but I try my best to do it as fast as I can.

Don't forget to give review! Please and thank you :D


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